


Mercy

by NoisyNoiverns, xMidnightSun



Series: Rise & Reign [6]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Flashbacks, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Minor Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychosis, Tags May Change, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 14:39:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 136,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4791005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoisyNoiverns/pseuds/NoisyNoiverns, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xMidnightSun/pseuds/xMidnightSun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thie'Haasn has completed his Pilgrimage, joined the Tonbay, and volunteered for the Migrant Fleet Marines. Now if only things would get easier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introducing the New Main Characters, Feat. the Actual Main Characters

**Galactic Standard Day 4, Week 2, Month 1, Year 2908**

**(Early Terran Year Common Era 2168)**

“The doctor will be with you shortly,” they said.

“She’ll only be a moment,” they said.

“Fucking bullshit,” the time display on Thie’s omni-tool said.

He and Axilus had been waiting around the little room in the _Tonbay_ ’s medbay they’d been escorted to for ages, it felt like. His omni-tool said it had only been twenty minutes, but still.

Axilus had been having an easier time of making the time pass than Thie had, playing with Thie’s hoses almost obsessively. No matter how much Thie tried to move away or tell him to stop, Axilus just kept at it, absolutely fascinated by the tech. At one point, Thie had warned him he was going to break something, and Axilus had merely quipped, “Well, yeah, if you keep moving.”

 _Turians_.

With a heavy sigh, Thie pulled up his omni-tool and scrolled through idly, trying to find something to do.

Then he noticed a little notification in the corner of the display.

 _You have missed calls_.

Uh-oh.

He tapped the button, pulled up the screen, and felt his heart drop into somewhere around his left ankle.

 _Ten missed calls from: Mom_.

“Ohhhh, _keelah_. Axilus, be quiet.”

“Why?”

He swallowed. “I have ten missed calls from my mom.”

Axilus sucked in a breath. “You’re _so_ dead.”

“I said, be _quiet_.” He keyed in his step-mother’s number, then held his breath and waited.

One tone.

Thr- “ _It’s about damn time!_ ” Cila shouted through the comm, causing Axilus to wince hard enough that Thie felt it in the way his hoses were being held. “What did you do, throw your omni-tool out a window!?”

Thie let out his breath in a huge exhale. “Good to hear from you, too, Mom,” he said. “I’m fine, still in one piece, thanks for asking.”

“Don’t give me that, young man, I’ve been calling for the past twenty minutes!”

Thie paused. “You- You called me _ten times_ in the past _twenty minutes_?”

“You weren’t answering. I got worried.”

Axilus snorted. “So all moms _are_ the same.”

“This one understands. Keep him.”

Thie sighed. “I’m _fine_ , Mom. I’m just waiting for the doctor to get here.”

“Doctor? Why do you- Thie, where are you?”

“Medbay on the _Tonbay_ , I-”

Cila gasped. “The _Tonbay_? You finished your Pilgrimage?”

“Yeah, I-”

“Keelah, congratulations, Thie! I’m so proud of you, I knew you could do it…”

Thie listened as she went on in that vein for another couple minutes or so. He’d forgotten how nice it could be to just listen to someone who he knew cared about him. Cila was nothing short of ecstatic to hear he’d brought back a ship, and one they could fix up in a reasonable amount of time, too. Her glowing praise gave Thie a warm feeling in his stomach.

She was less pleased, on the other hand, to hear about his volunteering to join the marines.

“Thie, I know you’re not suited for engineering, but the _marines_?”

“You didn’t protest when Del did it!”

“He’s twice your size! Del can take a hit, _you_ , on the other hand…”

Thie groaned. “Mom, I can take care of myself. Besides, Axilus is with me, his whole bloodline is, like, some sort of turian legend for how hard to kill they are.”

Axilus snorted. “ _Urban_ legend, maybe…”

Cila grumbled. “I swear, kid, next time I see you…”

“Love you, too, Mom.”

She sighed. “Just be careful, would you? I worry.”

“I know, Mom. I will.”

Cila hung up after exchanging good-byes, and Thie sighed. “At least that’s over with,” he grumbled, resting his forearms on his thighs. Axilus merely hummed and continued playing with loose bits of Thie’s suit.

Maybe another five or so minutes later, the door dinged and slid open. “Sorry I’m late,” said the female quarian who walked in. “ _Apparently_ , the _brilliant_ jarheads in charge of the _Neema_ decided to get roaring drunk and give each other _stupid_ dares. _One_ of them somehow managed to fill his helmet full of batarian booze and _refused_ to let us drain it. The one who brought him in had a blood alcohol content of _point-one-eight-two_.”

Thie blinked, eyes wide. “Uh… Is that bad..?”

“It is approximately very, _very_ much.” She shook her head and hit the door control. “Anyway. You are… Thie’Haasn, correct? The new arrival.”

He bobbed his head, and she made her way over, extending a hand. “Aela’Den vas _Tonbay_. Admiral Raan asked me to give you an exam and a psychological evaluation. Any questions?”

Thie shook his head, and she pulled up her omni-tool. “A quick scan first to determine any illness, then we’ll get to the questions. Is that alright?”

A nod, and she shooed Axilus away so she could walk around Thie, scanning him with her omni-tool. “Hm. You’ve got a fever, and your white blood cell count is rather high… Have you had any suit breaches recently?”

“He took his mask off on the Citadel,” Axilus answered promptly, before Thie could even get his mouth open to try and bullshit a response. “In a restaurant. He wanted to try something other than nutrient paste.”

Aela gave him a withering look. “Is this true?”

Thie scowled at Axilus, even though he knew he wouldn’t see it. “Yes,” he grumbled, hunching his shoulders.

Aela groaned. “Of _course_. I can’t have one _intelligent_ patient on my shift, of _course_ not, that would be too _easy_ …”

Thie huffed, and she elbowed him. “Don’t you huff at me. I’ll prescribe antibiotics, and you’ll stay on the _Tonbay_ for a few days or so until the infection has run its course. Can’t give you to the marines riddled with germs.”

Axilus snickered, and Thie scowled deeper. Stupid sellout turian.

* * *

 

 **TO:** FAdm. Shala’Raan vas _Tonbay_ , FAdm. Han’Gerrel vas _Neema_

 **FROM:** Dr. Aela’Den vas _Tonbay_

 **SUBJECT:** Psychological Evaluation Results, Thie’Haasn vas _Tonbay_

As requested, I have examined Thie’Haasn vas _Tonbay_ and given him a full psychological evaluation to determine his mental state and whether or not it matches claims made by his turian companion Axilus Madelivio. My full findings are enclosed with this message.

Haasn exhibits symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder, which interviews with Madelivio indicate are likely linked to a batarian slaver ship and a crash on a human colony. Due to the severity of symptoms indicated in the attached report, it is my opinion that, though unconventional, Madelivio should be allowed to remain with Haasn as long as it takes for him to decide Haasn is capable of caring for himself and making responsible decisions, as Haasn appears to have reacted positively to Madelivio’s presence over the course of his Pilgrimage. Admittedly, the metabolism of a biotic turian is likely to put a strain on resources, but Madelivio has agreed to get in contact with family and friends who will provide regular shipments of extra food so as not to eat food that would otherwise go to the rest of the Fleet.

This is only my professional recommendation as a doctor. The final decision as to what to do with Axilus Madelivio and Thie’Haasn vas _Tonbay_ is up to the Admiralty Board.

 **ATTACHMENT:** HaasnPsychEvalFullNotes.pdf

* * *

 

**Galactic Standard Day 2, Week 3, Month 1**

Thie bounced his leg, waiting in the shuttle bay of the _Neema_. A massive dreadnought from before the flight from Rannoch, the _Neema_ had a fittingly large bay, crammed with as much as she could possibly store while still leaving room for the various shuttles, not all of which were her original stock.

The shuttle pilot had dropped them off, then headed back to the Tonbay, only pointing in a vague direction and telling them to tell Xala, whoever _that_ was, she said hi. The rest of the bay paid no attention to them, mostly pilots and engineers hopping around the crates and taking care of their shuttles.

After a moment, Thie noticed a tall-ish male quarian making his way towards them, talking into his omni-tool. “No, I don’t _care_ if everyone agreed to it… _Point-one-eighty-two_ , Han! You were only drinking for a couple hours! How does _one_ person get _that_ drunk in only a couple hours?” he was saying. “Keelah… Fine, fine, just tell me where you are… Right, I’ll see you there.”

He sighed and hung up just as he reached Thie and Axilus, shaking his head. “Thie’Haasn, I presume?”

Thie looked at Axilus, then back at the taller quarian. “That’s me.”

He nodded. “Commander Aerazl’Xala vas _Neema_. I’m Han’Gerrel’s second-in-command. He would have met you personally, but he’s… His working memory isn’t fantastic at the moment. ADHD and mania, you know?”

Thie blinked. “Uh… No, I don’t, actually.”

Xala shrugged. “You’ll catch on quick. He’s a people person. Come on, I’m to take you to him. This way.” He did a crisp about-face and waved for them to follow, which they did after sharing another look.

Trotting after Xala through the _Neema_ , Thie supposed he shouldn’t be as surprised as he was that she was clearly lovingly taken care of. At at least three centuries old, the dreadnought seemed just as clean and smooth-running as the _Anchrivos_ had been, just a little more patchworked-together.

To his surprise, Xala took him to the sort of door that only ever led to a clean room. “Is this the medbay?” he asked, crossing his arms. It didn’t _seem_ likely; he didn’t think they’d walked far enough to be near the center of the ship, where the medbay typically was on the ships he’d been on, and there hadn’t been nearly enough flights of stairs. But he supposed it was possible the medbay could have been moved after the exodus, to make room for something else.

But Xala shook his head, punching in the code for the door. “One of a handful of exercise rooms. This one has all the weight-lifting equipment. The _Neema_ is a hub for the marines, so they built suitable facilities to accommodate a lot of active people. Can’t all run laps around the shuttle bay, after all.”

Thie considered this, then nodded to himself. That sounded reasonable enough.

Axilus grunted. “Why’s it a clean room, though?”

“Have you ever tried lifting weights in full heavy armor?”

That seemed to pacify Axilus. They went through the decontamination procedures, then Xala led the way into the room, removing his helmet as they walked through the rows of equipment. There were only a few quarians in the room, all scattered a decent distance away from each other to give each other space.

As they walked, Thie tried to get a look at Xala, knowing now was probably his only chance. The _Neema_ ’s second had refined features, with high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, a straight, sloping nose, and full lips resting in a position that, coupled with his half-lidded eyes, looked distinctly haughty. His hair was silky and carefully trimmed, falling neatly to his jawline. All that combined with his lean, graceful build and the proud way he carried himself reminded Thie of some of the aliens he’d run into on Pilgrimage, specifically the ones who were the most dangerous and-or important ones in the room and damn well knew it.

Then he mentally kicked himself and looked back at the ground. This mental poetry thing was getting to be an awful habit.

They came to a stop next to a pull-up bar, where one quarian- Gerrel, Thie assumed- was hanging from his knees and doing… crunches, as near as Thie could tell. He didn’t have a scrap of armor on him, not even his helmet or a single hose, just the endosuit. Thie caught a glimpse of brown skin near his chest as he pulled himself up- a hand. No gloves.

Xala sighed and tapped his fingers against his thigh. “Han.”

Gerrel paused, then swung back up to the top of the bar, grabbing it with his elbows to hold himself up. “Oh! Hullo, Xala.” He grinned, a bright, lopsided smile at odds with the rough angles, shaggily uneven haircut, and jagged scars that made up his face. “Come to watch the show?”

Xala heaved a long-suffering, yet patient, sigh. “No, Han. The biotics you were excited about, remember?”

Gerrel stopped to think about this, then practically lit up, his eyes going wide and his grin stretching to include both sides of his face. “Oh, right! Let me finish this set, then I’ll be right with you.”

He went back to his crunches, and Xala strolled around him, the arm not holding his helmet tucked neatly behind his back. “I’m surprised you forgot. You’ve been talking about it nonstop.”

Gerrel grunted. “Took a nap to try and sleep off the alcohol. Woke up with a total reset. You know how it goes.”

“Unfortunately.” Xala rubbed his temples, then eyed Gerrel’s arms and chest. “Why are you holding dumbbells?”

“Makes it more of a challenge. More fun that way. Honestly, Xala, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

“You’re not about to launch into another speech on how much you love Rael’Zorah again, are you?”

Gerrel made an offended sort of noise as he finished his set and carefully put the dumbbells down. “I do not give speeches on how much I love Rael’Zorah.”

“You do. You really do.”

Gerrel grumbled, then flexed his spine so he could look at Thie and Axilus, still hanging by his knees. “So this is them, huh?”

“Yes.” Xala walked around to stand next to Gerrel, looking over them imperiously. “This is Thie’Haasn vas _Tonbay_ and Axilus Madelivio.”

“Madelivio sounds familiar. It’ll come to me, just wait.” Gerrel, Thie noticed, was using his feet to gesture, rather than his hands, which were still folded across his chest. As his feet were currently above his head in a display of limberness surprising for someone as clearly well-muscled as Gerrel, it was more than a little unnerving. “Han’Gerrel vas _Neema_ , captain of the _Neema_ and admiral of the Heavy Fleet.” He shifted his legs’ positioning on the bar, then continued. “Heard a lot about you two. ‘Specially you, Haasn. Board’s been in an uproar for days.”

He kept chattering on, and Thie found himself tuning out, focusing more on Gerrel’s face and overall demeanor than what he was actually saying. For one thing, he was definitely like Axilus in that he was the sort to always be smiling; the entire time he talked, the corners of his thin lips were quirked up in a little grin. He had wrinkles at the corners of his mouth and eyes that folded up naturally whenever his smile grew. He wasn’t _pretty_ , by any means, but maybe _handsome,_ albeit in a rough, ugly sort of way. The bridge of his nose had a large bump to it, and looked just a little crooked, like it had been broken and improperly set; he was downright speckled with freckles that covered his face, went down his neck, and extended into his endosuit, reappearing again on his hands; and the part of his face that would peer out from behind the glass part of his mask was littered with scars, more than a few of which looked painful. Other than how he had to hold his legs and back taut to keep himself in a position in which he could talk to Axilus and Thie, he seemed relaxed, perfectly happy to keep nattering on.

Thie realized he’d been doing it again and made a mental note to bang his head against the wall for a while when he got the chance. If turians were off-limits for mental poetry, so were quarians. Especially quarian _men_. _Older_ quarian men. Older quarian men _who were his commanding officers_. _They_ were _especially_ off-limits.

He was snapped back to reality by Xala suddenly reaching over and gently covering Gerrel’s mouth with his hand. “Sorry, he likes the sound of his own voice,” he said, rather affectionately. “Come on, Han, we should get them sorted out.”

Gerrel gently headbutted Xala’s hand away, then heaved a sigh. “Fine, fine. Might want to step back.”

He relaxed his back and hung straight down while he adjusted the positioning of his legs on the pull-up bar, then swung towards them a bit before snapping his spine back away from them, straightening his legs, and going sailing off the bar, landing on his hands and flowing into a double back handspring. He slowed to a stop with his hands in the air and one foot starting to come back up for another handspring, and he paused for a moment, then took a sweeping bow. “And he sticks the landing.”

Xala sighed and rubbed his temples. “Show-off.”

Gerrel walked back over, flashing Xala another crooked grin. “You love me,” he said smugly, rolling the start of ‘love’ with his tongue like a piece of candy.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t think you’re a puffed-up show-off, darling. Where’d you leave your armor?”

Gerrel waved a hand towards the ceiling. “Up there, somewhere.”

Thie looked up, following Gerrel’s hand. Maybe three-quarters of the way up the wall, there was a shelf running the length of one wall, mostly bare but for a few duffel bags tossed haphazardly. In a couple spots, there were ladder rungs welded to the wall leading up to the shelf.

He looked back at the officers just in time to see Xala and Gerrel lock eyes. In that moment, Xala scowled, and Gerrel’s wild-eyed grin reappeared. “You’re not going to use the ladder, are you?” Xala asked in a way that was less asking and more saying with resignation.

“You know me so well.” Then Gerrel was off like a shot, taking a running leap first to the top of a bench, then a weight rack, then catching the edge of the shelf with one hand and using his momentum to swing himself up. He stayed crouched in one spot for a moment to balance, then stood up fully, dusted himself off, and traipsed over to a bag with the insignia of the Heavy Fleet’s admiral embroidered on the side. He checked it over, then tossed the bag to Xala and vaulted down, landing hard and shifting forward momentum into a few cartwheels. Once he’d stopped, he brushed his hands off and put them on his hips. “You know, if it weren’t for having to stay on the Fleet, I’d’ve probably been a gymnast.”

“Keelah, then I’d _never_ be able to keep up with you. Put your armor on, Flippy.”

Gerrel snickered and unzipped the bag while Xala held it for him, then started piecing his suit back together. “So,” he said, eyes sliding over to Axilus and Thie, gaze partially blocked by a line of scar tissue making a ridge next to the corner of his left eye, “you’re both biotics, then, yes?”

Thie nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Nice. Nobody told _me_ we had any of those. How much combat training have you had?”

Axilus made a clicking sound. “I finished basic training, sir. Thie’s been in a combat sim back on Palaven, but no training or anything.”

“Hmph. Pity. Glad to have you, anyway. Training’s quick enough, you should do fine. We’ll put you with the ground teams, biotics aren’t much use stuck on a ship. Tod- no, not Todor, Lia had the baby ‘bout a month ago, they’ll both still be on leave. Xala, get in contact with- no, never mind, I’ll do it myself.”

Xala hummed. “Slow down, Han. You’re getting ahead of yourself again.” He adjusted the bag in his arms so he could reach up and run his fingers through Gerrel’s shaggy hair. “You haven’t shaved it yet. I thought you hated it getting out of regs.”

Gerrel paused in snapping his pauldrons into place and grabbed a handful of Xala’s hair. “Yours isn’t in regs, either.”

“Yes, but I _like_ mine this way, and we both know so do you.”

Gerrel considered this, then shrugged. “True enough.” He adjusted the placement of a clasp, then continued armoring himself and talking to Axilus and Thie like nothing had happened. “So how’d you meet?”

Thie stiffened, his jaw locking shut and a yawning pit opening in his stomach. Axilus didn’t speak, but one foot shifted position into a defensive stance. Gerrel’s eyes flicked between them, then he shrugged. “Touchy subject, then. Noted. You were the one who brought back a ship, right? Turian freighter?”

Thie nodded, relieved, and Gerrel grinned. “Nice. Heard all about it. Mum was ecstatic, should’ve heard her prattling on. Think it’s her favorite Pilgrimage gift _Tonbay_ ’s ever received.”

“Your mother?” Thie asked, tilting his head slightly. Why would she care about gifts given to the _Tonbay_?

“Yes, you’ve met her. Shala’Raan vas _Tonbay_ , Admiral of the Patrol Fleet,” Gerrel said in a singsong that was only slightly mocking. “Bit of a mouthful, so I just call her Mum. And before you ask, _no_ , nepotism was _not_ the reason I was made an admiral. She disapproved of the decision, actually. I believe her exact words were…” He paused, then said, in a near-perfect imitation of Raan’s accent, “‘What the hell are you thinking? He’s too brash, too impulsive, tries to fight everything in his path…’” In his normal voice, he added, “And then there was a ten-hour debate. Admittedly, I fell asleep halfway through. Long day.”

As Gerrel continued to suit up, he kept asking questions, surprising Thie with how genuinely interested he seemed. When Axilus brought up his weak shin plate, Gerrel merely laughed and said it’d work out, one of his eyes had a scar across it and it only made him a bit more jumpy around grenades. He was positively ecstatic to hear Thie was Cila’Faazha’s stepson, jovially informing him that Cila spoke of her stepsons often, but he frankly didn’t have the memory for names.

Then he just had his helmet left, and Xala folded up the duffel bag and slipped it into a pocket for him before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

Thie blinked, hard. “Wait, you two are-”

“Married,” Gerrel said, carefully fitting his helmet into place. He was quiet for a moment as everything connected and came back online, then continued, “Sixteen years next month.”

Xala stiffened slightly. “Next month? Already?”

“What, you _forgot?_ You remember everything else, and you forget _our anniversary?”_ Gerrel tsked as Xala put his own helmet back on. “Keelah, you remember my grandfather’s birthday when half the time I forget I even _have_ a grandfather. How do you forget _this?”_

“I didn’t _forget,_ ” Xala protested. “I just lost track of time.”

“Uh-huh. That’s my excuse when Mum has to call and ‘remind’ me to show up to board meetings.”

Xala shook his head and folded his arms. “Let’s just go already.”

“You’re not getting out of it that easy,” Gerrel challenged, though he did start heading for the door. Thie looked at Axilus, then trailed after the bickering officers, wondering if they did this frequently.

The argument didn’t last long, thankfully, and the two officers returned to their previous selves, Gerrel cheerfully bragging about every aspect of the _Neema_ they passed and Xala calmly translating his exuberance into more level-headed terms.

At one point, Thie noticed an unnaturally tall quarian walking towards them, attention buried in a small stack of datapads clutched in her hands. She wasn’t armored, and her suit had what looked like grease stains scattered all over- an engineer. He wondered if he should say something- probably _how did she get so big_ \- but decided against it, figuring it wasn’t his business.

Then, just as she was about to walk past, she turned sharply and made a loop around Axilus, looking up at him. “You’re a turian,” she said, sounding not so much blunt as curious.

Axilus jumped, then tried to follow her with his head, as he was still walking forward and she was somehow keeping up while walking circles around him. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Ahead of them, the officers looked back, then paused and turned. “Get back to work,” Gerrel snapped, startling Thie with how quickly his voice went from the cheerful chatter of earlier to a command tone. “The _Neema_ ’s three hundred years old, I’m not losing her ’cause of some calibrating errors in the core that never got fixed.”

“Huh?” The engineer glanced at him, then waved a hand. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m just in charge of the physical repairs. You’re a turian, how did you get so big? And are your talons proportionate, or are they kind of small?”

Gerrel sputtered, and Xala quickly pulled up his omni-tool. He hit a few keys, and Gerrel went silent. Then Xala simply sighed and waved to get the engineer’s attention. “Engineer Neeya, we’re a bit busy at the moment. You’ll have to wait to talk with him.”

“But I’m only supposed to be here for another day or so!”

“You can come back next time you have some spare leave.”

She considered this, then nodded. “I’ll hold you to that.” Then she glanced around to re-orient herself, headed off in the direction she’d been going in the first place, and Thie was left still wondering exactly how a quarian got so damn _tall_.

Xala sighed. “She’s brilliant, but scatter-brained. Come on, central command isn’t far.”

Xala didn’t turn Gerrel’s speakers back on until they’d reached a large room bustling with people and featuring a large viewport that showed what was ahead of the _Neema_. After a brief squabble and a half-hearted headbutt, Gerrel shook his head and strode up to the spot childhood tours of the Olyna had taught him was most likely the captain’s position. “Someone get me the _Nuok_ ,” he barked, shoulders squaring as _Han_ ’Gerrel was replaced by _Admiral_ Gerrel. “I need to talk with Todor.”

“Yes, sir,” called a comm specialist with a stiff salute. Gerrel nodded at her, and the speakers crackled for a moment, then the specialist spoke into the comm, “ _Nuok_ , this is the _Neema_ , do you read?”

A moment of radio static, then a gruff male voice responded. “This is the _Nuok_. Loud and clear, _Neema._ What do you need?”

“Admiral Gerrel is requesting to speak with Commander Todor. Is he available?”

“Jus’ a sec, I’ll patch you through.”

The speakers crackled again, then a tired voice came through. “This is Commander Son’Todor vas _Nuok_.”

Gerrel started pacing slowly, hands clasped behind his back. “Sonny Boy!” he said, a note of his previous cheer back in his voice.

Thie swore he could hear the wince in Todor’s voice. “Hello, Gerrel. Don’t call me that. It was a perfectly respectable name until the humans showed up, and you know it.”

“I’m an admiral, I can call you whatever I want, Sonny Boy.” Gerrel snickered. “Anyway. How’s Lia? Baby still doing alright?”

“Lia’s fine, just…” There was a yawn, then Todor continued, “Very tired. Kael keeps waking her up at odd hours. I’ve been trying to help, but he’s only a month old, he wants her more than he wants me.”

Gerrel made a vaguely amused sort of noise, then added, “Congratulations, by the way. Meant to tell you earlier, but it slipped my mind.”

Todor chuckled a little. “I’m surprised you remembered I even _had_ a child.”

Gerrel put a hand to his chest, even though Todor wouldn’t see it. “Not _my_ fault my working memory is detachable. Blame genetics.”

“Hey, leave Raan out of this.”

Gerrel let out a sharp, barking laugh at that, shaking his head. “Alright, point to you. Anyway, Todor, I’ve got a little present for you that’ll be headed to the _Nuok_ once training’s done.”

Todor was quite for half a minute, then, “You mean they let you have the biotics?”

“Mhm. Not bad kids, really. Should be useful. Wasn’t sure if you were still on paternity or not, so figured I should call, see who’s in charge.”

Todor _hmm_ ed a bit. “Technically, I’m back in command, but with what a handful Kael’s being, I’m splitting duties with the XO. Vasya’Meral, you’ve met once or twice.”

“Ah, right. Good choice, I like Vasya. That was all I needed, thanks, Todor. Go get some rest, you sound awful.”

Todor grumbled. “I’ll _try_.”

The comms cut out, and Gerrel sauntered back over to them, accepting a datapad from a comm specialist leaning out of their chair to hand it to him. “Right then, only one thing left.”

Thie glanced at Axilus, then back to Gerrel and tilted his head questioningly.

He didn’t need to see it to know Gerrel was grinning his face off. “Let’s see what you boys can do.”

* * *

 

The _Neema_ , to Thie’s surprise, had a fully-functional combat sim along with other standard training rooms. Axilus went first, on Gerrel’s insistence. At his request, the techs running the sim downloaded a custom simulation from an online archive: a small canyon full of prey, perfect for turian hunting techniques. He blazed through the sim, armed with a pistol and bared talons to supplement his biotics. Watching from the control room with Gerrel and Xala, Thie couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of how easily Axilus seemed to control the little bursts of lighting, even though he knew he’d gotten a crash course in using them on the Anchrivos and had probably been practicing what Nieght had taught him. Gerrel seemed absolutely delighted, and even Xala appeared to be impressed despite his general air of not caring.

And then, sooner than he would have liked, it was Thie’s turn.

The techs loaded up one of the sims that came pre-installed with most sims, a warehouse with scattered crates for cover. The first couple targets loaded in, and he took a deep breath, focused until he felt the little tingle along his spine, raised his arm…

… and nothing happened.

He frowned, then tried again.

Again nothing. The targets were getting a bit too close for comfort, so he shot a spray to take them out before he tried again.

This time there was a ripple of blue along his arm, but still nothing.

He growled under his breath, then repeated the motion one more time, trying to channel all his frustration into it.

One of the targets flew back a ways and disintegrated, but nothing like what should have happened. He cursed and stamped the ground, shaking his head and pacing furiously as the sim dissolved around him. It must have been the implant. The old one worked. He hadn’t really used his biotics at all since the surgery. He’d done a little experimenting when he was recovering at Axilus’ family’s apartment, but he’d chalked the lack of results up to the implant still integrating itself with his system.

Just fucking great.

Gerrel, Xala, and Axilus loped into the sim to meet him. “Well,” Gerrel said, folding his arms, “that was anticlimactic.”

Axilus let out a trill. “His biotics are stronger than that, I’ve seen them,” he protested. “Thie, what happened?”

Thie scowled. “The fucking implant happened, Axilus! It’s not fucking working!”

Xala held up a hand to quiet him, eyes narrowed. “The files did indicate his biotics should be fairly powerful. What implant do you have?”

“Human L1. I _used_ to have an asari one off the black market, but it was cooking my brain inside my skull, so I had to get a new one. And apparently, it’s a piece of fucking shit.”

Gerrel made a noise of annoyance. “Damn. Xala, you know what that means, right?”

“A delay in your plans?”

“Well, that too, but…” He heaved a sigh. “Hoped I wouldn’t have to do this, but… Xala, as your commanding officer, I’m _ordering_ you to get in contact with Jael’Tuzh and see if he can do anything for this kid.”

Xala made an exasperated little noise. “Han, you’re honestly pulling rank on me over this?”

“The less contact I have with him, the better, you know that. And if I _didn’t_ pull rank, I guarantee you’d be trying to talk me into doing it myself. Don’t lie, you know you would.”

Xala put a hand against his mask, shaking his head. “You stubborn old… Fine, whatever, it’s not worth arguing over.” He looked at Thie then, folding his arms neatly across his chest. “Congratulations, Thie’Haasn. You get another few days of relaxation, then you get to meet your third admiral.”

* * *

 

 **TO:** 0-000-135537

 **FROM:** 3-3T2-8448698

 **SUBJECT:** Observation 0-P01-7-6341Q

Contact established with 0-H01-263367. Location and status of 0-P01-7-6341Q verified and in line with information previously collected. 0-H01-263367 on standby. Will send further updates as needed or requested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Xala mentions, Gerrel has ADHD and bipolar type I disorder. One of the authors has ADHD and bipolar type I, recognized themselves in Gerrel's in-game behavior, headcanoned accordingly, and is writing his mania from personal experience.


	2. Hey, Guess Who's Younger Than You Thought

**Galactic Standard Day 6, Week 3, Month 1**

Axilus shifted and stretched out in the chair he’d unintentionally scared a pre-Pilgrimage kid out of, putting his hands behind his head and idly watching the vidscreen on the wall before him. The _Neema_ ’s mess hall before the switch to nutrient paste, the common room was a big place near the bottom of the ship, full of an eclectic collection of furniture scavenged from all over the galaxy and all sorts of entertainment sources. Since there wasn’t exactly a need for a mess hall when nobody had to cook, it had been converted ages ago into a general area for the crew to relax in when not on duty. Somewhere down the line, somebody had splurged and gotten a huge vidscreen for one wall, and there was an unspoken tradition for returning Pilgrims to bring video game systems or new games back as an unofficial bonus part of their Pilgrimage gift.

At the moment, there was a casual tournament going, some sort of game where the two sides moved bars across the screen to try and bounce a ball back and forth at each other. Admiral Gerrel was playing against some younger female marine, needing something to occupy his attention while he waited for the people from Special Projects to show up.

Axilus hoped they’d get there soon. They’d been waiting for a couple hours now, if his internal clock was correct.

With a shout, the marine Gerrel had been playing against won, throwing her hands up in the air and cheering for herself while Gerrel groaned. “How did you _do_ that?” he complained, knocking her with his shoulder. “Share your secrets, admiral’s orders.”

“That’s abuse of authority, sir,” she said cheekily, handing off her controller to the next player.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, leaving his controller on the floor and getting to his feet. He brushed himself off, then hit his omni-tool reflexively as it started beeping at him. “Gerrel... No, you didn’t wake me, I was busy, what do you need?” He continued grumbling at the comm as he walked off. Axilus fluttered his mandibles, then yawned and shifted positions. Prying into an officer’s work wasn’t what good turians did, he knew that. His parents had taken full advantage of having both his father and grandfather as high-ranking officers to teach him and Tollak to leave well enough alone whenever someone more important than them was doing basically anything related to their work.

The other marine plopped down in a seat on the side of Axilus where Thie wasn’t, folding her legs underneath her. “Hi!” she chirped at them, putting her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. “Lila’Yaana vas _Moreh_. What’s a turian doing on the _Neema_?”

Axilus fluttered his mandibles, tilting his head a bit. “Axilus Madelivio. I’m with him.” He jerked his head at Thie, who didn’t look up from whatever he was reading on his omni-tool, just lifted a hand in acknowledgement.

Lila’s eyes widened slightly behind her mask. “Ohhhh, so you must be the biotics! I heard about you.” She craned her neck so she could look at Thie. “So then you’re Thie’Haasn vas _Tonbay_ , right?”

Thie grunted, and Axilus bobbed his head. “That’s him.”

“Neat!”

She was maybe Thie’s size, but she reminded Axilus a lot of Siri, if Siri were less shy. “Did you say your name is Yanna?”

“Yaana. The ‘a’ sound is kinda long. Why?”

He shook his head a bit. “Nothing, I just knew a quarian named Siri’Yanna. Nar _Idenna_ , if I remember right.”

Lila considered this, then shrugged. “Could be related. Sometimes names get changed slightly when ship rosters change. Something could’ve happened somewhere down the line.”

Gerrel came back then, muttering darkly as he closed his omni-tool. “Haasn, Madelivio,” he barked with a jerk of his head, “let’s go, Special Projects is here.”

Lila went quiet, and Axilus shared a look with Thie before getting to his feet. If Gerrel were a turian, Axilus would’ve guessed he had dirt in his spinal plates, but since he didn’t exactly have those…

They followed a weirdly surly Gerrel up to the bridge, where Xala and a couple ensigns were waiting for them. “Let’s get this over with,” Gerrel groused, folding his arms across his chest.

Xala shook his head and signaled to a comm specialist, who nodded and tapped at her console. “Cleared to board, _Tesost_. Admiral Gerrel and Commander Xala receiving.”

There was a few minutes of waiting, then the airlock hissed, and a small team of quarians walked on board, a male maybe a couple inches taller than Xala leading the way while fiddling with a datapad. Gerrel bridled at the sight of him, shoulders squaring and head drawing back like he was debating whether or not to headbutt.

The tall one put away his datapad and shook hands with Xala. “Commander Xala. Good to see you.” He hesitated, then nodded in Gerrel’s direction and added, “Gerrel.”

Axilus thought he might have heard Gerrel give a low growl, but was distracted by the tall one moving over to where he and Thie were standing, looking them over. He kept his distance from Axilus (who noted with no small satisfaction that he was eyeing his claws warily), then reached out to shake hands with Thie. “Thie’Haasn vas _Tonbay_. Admiral Jael’Tuzh vas _Tesost_ , xenobiologist. This is Liilo’Xen, Renesh’Sheeri, and Sarya’Valoch. We were asked to come take a look at your implant, see what we could do about it.”

Thie hesitated, then accepted his hand and shook it. “An honor, sir.”

“The pleasure is mine. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I’m a popular topic lately, I’ve noticed,” Thie said dryly.

Axilus held back a snort, and Tuzh dropped Thie’s hand, clearing his throat. “Well, I, ah… Yes, well. Shall we get started, then?”

Xala nodded sharply. “A clean room’s been prepared for you, Admiral. We can go there now.”

“Right, thank you, Commander.”

Xala started off, head held high, and Tuzh followed barely a step behind. The rest of the little party followed shortly after, Gerrel reluctantly trotting to catch up to and keep up with Xala. Axilus brought up the rear with Thie, stretching as he walked. At least “clean room” meant he could take armor off. While his armor wasn’t uncomfortable, that didn’t necessarily mean he was happy about wearing it.

As they walked, he noticed a little quarian, about half the size of the rest, trotting along in the middle of the group and holding the hand of one of the female scientists. He snuffled a bit to himself, then elbowed Thie and gestured to the child. Thie looked, then a moment later a private channel opened up. “So nobody told you there’d be a little kid here, either?”

“Not a word. Do they usually do this?”

Thie gave a minor shrug, disguised as shaking out stiff muscles. “Special Projects is only technically military. I guess it’s up to the parents whether or not they take their kids to work with them.”

Axilus considered this, then shrugged. “Might as well ask when we get there, I guess?”

“Maybe. No harm, I guess.”

The clean room was in the medical wing, unsurprisingly. Xala bowed out, saying he had work to do elsewhere, and to call him if they needed anything. Gerrel, to Tuzh’s obvious discomfort, stayed, skulking in one corner with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed. Axilus started prying off parts of his armor that wouldn’t take long to get back on- his helmet, his gloves- and piling them neatly in another corner while the scientists started talking to Thie. He didn’t really have much of a reason to be here, he knew, but it made him feel better. If the scientists wanted to try anything, they’d have to get through him first.

As he shook out his neck, he felt eyes on him, a prickling sense along his spinal plates he’d learned more than well in basic training. He glanced around, one mandible lowered and the other cocked out at the bottom, gaze alighting on the little quarian he’d seen earlier. They were sitting across the room with a small bundle in their lap, similar to what his mother always carried with her to work, and staring wide-eyed at him with a tilted head.

He fluttered his mandibles slowly, then tilted his head in the opposite direction theirs was. This was apparently an unspoken signal, because they immediately set the bundle down and hopped down from the stool they’d been sitting on, racing over to him faster than he would have assumed possible for something with such short legs.

He _liked_ this one.

Across the room, one of the adults made a startled sort of noise. “Daro!” she yelped, setting down the tools she’d been arranging and coming over. “Keelah, Daro, what did I tell you, be _good_ , for _once_ …”

Daro looked at the woman, a pout obvious despite the mask. The scientist sighed, trying to shoo the child away. “I’m sorry, she’s my daughter, she’s only nine, she wanted to come along and she _promised_ not to bother anybody…”

Axilus flicked a mandible. “She’s not bothering me.”

“Don’t say that, you’ll only encourage her.” She sighed and folded her arms, looking down at the child now giving her a very pleading look. She and Daro looked at each other for a while, then she sighed and crouched down. “Promise not to hurt yourself?”

Daro nodded, and another question rolled out: “And if the nice turian starts getting annoyed, you’ll leave him alone?” Another nod, and the scientist sighed. “Fine. Come get me if you need me, okay? I’ll be right over there.”

Daro nodded enthusiastically, now bouncing on her toes, and her mother pushed herself to her feet and returned to the group now helping Thie out of his suit.

Daro immediately tugged on Axilus’ hand, and he willingly let her pull him down to her level, holding out his ungloved hand for her to inspect. She snatched it immediately, pulling his talons closer to her mask for a better look. On impulse, he flexed his hand and tapped on the glass, getting her to jerk back in surprise. Then, apparently delighted, she tapped the ends of his talons with her fingers, then manually tapped his hand against her mask again.

She slowly sat down, and since she was still holding his hand, Axilus went with her, hastily arranging his legs so he wouldn’t hurt her. Nine-year-old _turians_ could be fragile; he didn’t want to find out how easy it would be to accidentally injure a nine-year-old _quarian_. While Daro played with his talons, he looked up and over at the science team. “We want to start with a full physical,” Tuzh was saying, pulling up his omni-tool. “The more data we have on your physical well-being, the better we can adapt an amplifier to work with your physiology without risk of damage to your nervous system or anything else.”

Daro tugged on his arm, and he turned his attention back to her. “What?”

She pulled on his arm a bit more insistently, and he frowned. “What do you want? Can you tell me?”

She just gave him the best glower a kid could do, then reached up and tugged on his cowl. He snorted instinctively and pulled his head back, then clicked his mandibles. “Don’t talk a lot, do you?”

She started to reach for his head, but a sudden burst of concerned noises from the other part of the room drew her attention. He turned his head to see too, and flared his mandibles in surprise.

Thie was mostly out of his endosuit, taking it apart piece by sectioned-off piece and laying it carefully on the table behind him. He’d apparently just removed the sleeve on the worse of his two legs, and the ugly, garish scar glared at him, almost looking like it was throbbing in the harsh light of the clean room.

Across the room, Gerrel sucked in a breath. “Keelah, kid, that’s some nasty work. And you _walk_ on it?”

Thie squirmed a little. “Well…”

Gerrel made a disapproving sound. “Get that thing reinforced and wrapped. If you’re going to put weight on it, you’ll want to keep it from ripping itself back open from the strain. I’ve had it happen before, it’s nothing you want to go through in the middle of battle.” Then he paused for a moment, then added, “Or at all, really. Not fun.”

Thie nodded, and Axilus’ attention was drawn back to Daro, who had now lost interest in Thie and was climbing up his cowl to get a better look at his head. He snorted at her and clicked his mandibles, causing her to draw back. She tilted her head, then reached for his mandibles, and he allowed her to grab one and move it about as she inspected the joint.

He let her manhandle his mandible for a couple minutes, then parted his jaws, spread his mandibles, and let out a gentle, quiet little roar in her face.

She jumped, reeling back, then blinked rapidly up at him before seizing his jaws and shoving her face up against his mouth plates, hitting her mask against his jaw with a _clunk_ Axilus felt in his internal skeleton just as well as in his plates.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Daro’s mother jump so high he was surprised she didn’t hit the ceiling. “ _Daro!_ ”

She rushed over and pulled Daro back, prying her hands off Axilus’ mandibles and scolding, “Don’t _do_ that! Turians are _predators_ , Daro, those teeth are _dangerous_ , you don’t want to get a _suit puncture_ , or a _gash_ along your mask, or _worse_ -!”

Daro let out a shrill, distressed shriek and started squirming like mad, and Axilus fluttered his mandibles quickly. “No, it’s okay, really!” he said, instinctively thrumming a soothing subvocal in spite of the little voice in the back of his head reminding him neither of the quarians would hear. “She’s not bothering me, and she was being totally safe.”

Liilo hesitated, then set Daro down, but still held her back. Axilus clicked his mandibles and tipped his head back to expose his throat, then waggled one mandible. “I won’t hurt her. Swear on Palaven’s spine.”

Liilo sighed. “I’m not sure how significant that is, but I assume it’s important. Just… please be careful, would you? She’s all I have.”

He nodded sharply, and Liilo sighed again and went back to the science team. Immediately, Daro shook herself, a quick little shudder, then went back to what she was doing, examining Axilus’ mouth while moving his mandibles about for a better look.

The examination went smoothly from there, the scientists poking and prodding at Thie and running tests while Axilus sat in the corner with a small child carefully exploring as much of him as the armor and her short limbs would allow. By the time it was over, Daro had retired to his cowl, sitting straddling his neck and leaning on the back of his head, which he’d turned so she wouldn’t impale herself on his crest. He noticed Thie getting his suit back on, and very carefully got to his feet, trying not to disturb Daro. Liilo came over while the rest of the science team packed up, and Axilus was pretty sure he heard his heart melting as Daro reached for her mother and Liilo very carefully picked her up and settled her on one hip.

He put his helmet and gloves back on while Thie finished piecing his suit together, and Gerrel escorted the lot of them back to the bridge. At the airlock, Tuzh folded his hands behind his back and bowed slightly to Gerrel. “I should have something in a few weeks. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

He offered a hand to Gerrel, but Gerrel only looked him dead in the eyes, placed one fist against the palm of the other hand, and cracked his knuckles with a series of sickening pops.

Tuzh squirmed and dropped his hand. “I’ll, uh, I’ll just- I’ll just go, then.”

“You do that.”

As the science team left, Daro twisted in her mother’s grasp and waved shyly at Axilus. Cocking a mandible inside his helmet, he waved back with a low trill. “See you, Fledge.”

Once the team was gone and the _Tesost_ had disengaged from the _Neema_ , Gerrel shook himself. “Keelah, I hate him. Let’s go see if the tournament’s over with yet.”

As they headed for the commons, Gerrel dropped back to walk with Axilus, watching the ground. “That scar on his leg,” he said quietly, “you know what happened there?”

Axilus hesitated, then murmured, “Broken twice, and an infection. That’s how I found him. He’d been like that for days.”

Gerrel considered this for a few moments. “You’ll want to keep an eye on that leg,” he said finally. “Bone integrity’ll be shot. I’ll send an alert to medical, see what they can do for him. Should have enough junk on hand to rig up more reinforcement for the bone, but don’t count on it holding. Not too much hard activity on it, or it’ll just get broke again, and the more that happens, the worse it’ll come back to bite you both in the ass someday.”

-

 **TO:** FAdm. Han’Gerrel vas _Neema_

 **FROM:** FAdm. Jael’Tuzh vas _Tesost_

 **SUBJECT:** Thie’Haasn vas _Tonbay_

My team has obtained blueprints for both the human L1 implant used by Thie’Haasn and asari-made amplifiers. Work began on the project a few hours ago as of composing this message. Progress will be slow due to the nature of the project, but given the detail included in the plans we have, it should be simple enough to manufacture a new amplifier. As we near completion, we will need Haasn to visit the _Tesost_ for minor testing and adjustments.

As per Commander Xala’s request, I have forwarded the results of Haasn’s physical examination to the _Neema_ ’s medbay. Special Projects will be happy to donate any necessary materials to augment and reinforce Haasn’s skeletal structure and existing cybernetic implants.

My professional opinion as a scientist is to keep him out of strenuous activity until the upgrades can be implemented.

Best of luck,

Jael’Tuzh vas _Tesost  
_ Fleet Admiral, Migrant Fleet Special Projects

-

**Galactic Standard Day 2, Week 6, Month 1**

By the time Special Projects finished Thie’s new amp, Axilus had already received his first package from home, crammed full of food his mother swore up and down were calculated and packaged exactly to sustain him until the next package arrived. There were meat pies, and candies, and fruits, and his grandmother’s spicy meat-and-vegetable stew, and plenty of recipes from his grandfather, and a general sense of _this is how I show you I love you when you’re away_. His mother had also included a couple things from his room that, thanks to all the excitement, he hadn’t noticed he’d forgotten until a few days after they’d left Cipritine.

Thie had called him a dork for getting all choked up over food and some old toys. He took it back once Axilus shoved him and knocked him on his ass.

So the next time the science team dropped by the _Neema_ , rather than follow them to the clean room to sit and do nothing, he sat in the commons, happily eating one of the meals his mother had put together for him. He would have eaten in the clean room, if Daro had come with this time, but Liilo had said she had class to attend, so she couldn’t come along. Instead, Lila’Yaana, the quarian from the video game tournament, had sidled up to him, bringing along a younger quarian who hovered around her like she was scared to leave arm’s reach, whom Lila introduced as Shala’Ganu nar _Usela_ , a twelve-year-old doing pre-Pilgrimage service.

They were in the middle of discussing things for Shala to look out for on Pilgrimage when the story somehow got derailed to how Thie and Axilus had gotten ahold of an entire freighter. Lila seemed particularly delighted by how they’d kissed afterwards, even if it was unintentional and spur-of-the-moment and _totally not_ indicative of any feelings Axilus might be harboring.

Another marine glanced over when Axilus mentioned the freighter, and came drifting up to them. “You brought back a whole ship?” he asked, sounding more than a little mystified.

Axilus bobbed his head. “Little turian freighter. My mom said she won’t last long, but quarian intervention should boost her lifespan, at least for another decade or so.” He snorted. “There was a human freighter for a lot cheaper, but Mom said not to trust it.”

The other marine sucked in a breath and slowly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah…”

Axilus blinked and fluttered his mandibles slowly. “Oh, no, don’t tell me. You brought back a human ship?”

He looked down at his feet, shuffling awkwardly. “Half.”

Axilus choked on his food. “ _Half?_ ”

“I _had_ a full ship,” the marine protested. “Un… Until I started the relay approach.”

Axilus whistled. “Shit. That’s the second human ship I’ve heard of that’s fallen apart in a relay jump. If I never set foot on anything human-made, it’ll be too soon.”

“ _Second?_ ” came the chorus of squawks from the listening quarians. And so Axilus started telling the story of what Siri had told him that Thie had told her during the geth base incident. More quarians steadily trickled in to listen, and after a while it turned into a sort of… story-telling party, he guessed. Mostly stories about what everyone had gotten their hands on as Pilgrimage gifts. There were a lot who had gotten lost and ended up on Omega, poor souls. They weren’t terribly keen on sharing. The marine who had lost half a ship, it turned out, had only just arrived on the _Neema_ a few hours prior, having just gotten back from his Pilgrimage less than a week ago. Kal’Reegar vas _Shellen_ , he said his name was. Only sixteen.

At some point, Gerrel joined the little group, having just recently woken up and being more than a tad annoyed that Admiral Tuzh was back on his ship and nobody had thought to tell him. He was in the middle of regaling them with a tale of one of his and Rael’Zorah’s many Pilgrimage misadventures, this one featuring biotiball, Palavenian _lanadenbul_ , a batarian shoe-smuggling ring, and more cardboard boxes than anybody really needed to know existed in the galaxy when his omni-tool went off. “Hold that thought,” he said, then pulled up his comm. “Gerrel. Oh, it’s you, Xala. Can it wait? I just got to the best part!”

Over the comm came a long-suffering sigh. “Han…”

“It’s not the krogan incident! There are children present. This is the one about why the asari justicars are required to shoot me on sight.”

“ _Han!_ ”

“Oh, alright, alright. Spoilsport. I’ll be there in a couple minutes.” He cut the comm, then sighed and pushed himself to his feet. “And that’s just the tip of the yikesberg. I have to go, Tuzh and his team are ready to get lost. Remind me later and I’ll tell you the rest.” He glanced at Axilus and jerked his head, adding, “Madelivio, with me.”

Axilus glanced at the others, then scrambled to his feet and trotted after Gerrel, listening to the mutterings of “What the _fuck?_ ” behind them.

“They’ve got the new amp all installed and tested,” Gerrel told him. “Figured he might want you nearby, what with how close you two are.”

Axilus flickered his mandibles, then bobbed his head. “Probably, sir. Thank you.”

Gerrel shrugged, then pulled up his omni-tool and started flicking through the notifications he’d missed while he was asleep. Neither of them spoke for the rest of the walk to the medbay, and Axilus was relieved when they arrived to find the team and Thie standing around in the waiting area rather than still in the clean room so he could go over to Thie.

Thie was sitting down, head back against the wall and eyes shut. He groaned when Axilus prodded him, then groggily pulled his head up and glared at him. “What?”

He blinked and frowned. “Are you okay?”

Thie said something that sounded like “murglemerfeshmurf.” And then his eyes closed again, and his head dipped forward.

Xala glanced over, then coughed into a fist. “He’s on a lot of painkillers at the moment,” he explained with a shrug. “He panicked and had to be sedated.”

Axilus felt a little dizzy at that. “Spirits, I’m so sorry-“

Xala shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I hear he had a rough Pilgrimage. It’s perfectly fine.”

Gerrel made a grumbling noise. “Does everyone but me know what exactly happened?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Xala said absently. “Admiral Tuzh, will you be leaving, then?”

Tuzh nodded. “We’ll show ourselves out. I know the way back to the bridge from here.” He moved forward to shake Xala’s hand, then hesitantly offered it to Gerrel, too.

At first, it looked like Gerrel was going to shake, albeit very grudgingly. Then, to less surprise than Axilus supposed he should have, balled his hand into a fist and punched Tuzh in the gut instead, eliciting a shout from Xala and nothing but a very high-pitched squeak that turned into a “ _fffffffffff_ ” as all the air rapidly left his lungs and then into a wheezing gasp.

Tuzh hit the floor, and Xala wasted no time in going to check on him, crouching down next to him and only sparing a moment to glare at Gerrel. Gerrel himself, meanwhile, took a step back, folded his arms smartly behind his back, and mused aloud, “You know, as much trouble as that reaction says I’m in, that was worth every bit of it.”

-

**Galactic Standard Day 3, Week 6, Month 1**

The hallway outside the armory was minorly crowded with about nineteen trainees, three seasoned marines, five pre-Pilgrimage “interns,” two officers, another marine doing maintenance on the lights and complaining about everyone getting in his way, and a turian. All in all, an average day on the _Neema_.

Except for the turian. That was new.

And the biotic quarian leaning against the turian, still tired from sedatives. That was not new, but also wasn’t frequent enough to be old, so more like off the wall.

Mostly, there was a lot of murmured gossip about the third officer they were waiting on, but it was hardly the focal point of the conversation. That honor was reserved for the rather one-sided shouting match between the two officers.

“You punched a _sixty-eight-year-old man!”_ Xala cried, throwing his arms wide.

“I know, dear,” Han responded, not moving from his position of leaned up against the wall with arms folded.

“Is that all you have to say for yourself!?”

“Yes, dear.”

Xala growled under his breath, running through Han’s responses in his head. Something about his tone… “Han’Gerrel vas _Neema_ , are you watching vids on your visor again?”

“No, dear.”

Xala scowled, then pulled up his omni-tool and pressed a few keys. Just a moment, then… “Hey!” Han complained, finally turning to look at him.

“You were. You were watching vids on your visor instead of listening _again_. Keelah, Han, I can’t _believe_ you!”

Han scowled at him, then caught a glimpse of something over Xala’s shoulder and moved to intercept. “Son’Todor, just in time!” he said cheerfully, and Xala turned to watch as Han trotted up to the newly-arrived Todor, shaking his hand enthusiastically and moving to walk in step with him up to the armory door. He shouldn’t be too mad, he knew- impulsivity and out-of-control emotions were a major part of the mania, and the medications only made him _functional_ , not _cured_.

But it was just so _infuriating_ when he refused to _listen_.

Todor sighed, adjusting the bag on his back. “‘Just in time,’ he says. What did you do?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he insisted.

Xala huffed. “He punched Admiral Tuzh in the gut,” he said, gritting his teeth.

“You _what!?_ Why would you do that?”

Han groaned. _“Xala!”_

“Don’t try to get out of this, Han-”

He was suddenly interrupted by a wail from Todor’s bag, and he went silent, staring wide-eyed.

Han was significantly less quiet. “Is that..?”

Todor sighed, moving the bag around to his front and gently pulling out a small child, wrapped in the bubble for safe transport beyond the clean rooms. “My son, yes. His name is Kael. Shh, Kael, please…”

Xala drifted closer, as did most of the others in the hallway. “He’s only a couple months, isn’t he? Why’d you bring him?”

Todor sighed. “Because his mother really needs a rest, she hasn’t gotten a good sleep in three weeks, just thirty-minute naps every few hours, but he panics whenever we try to leave him with a babysitter. He’s not going to be a problem, is he? I can take him back to the _Nuok_ , if he is, I’ll see if Vasya can handle things a bit longer-”

“No, no, let Lia sleep,” Han interrupted. “A baby’s not going to interfere a whole lot, it’s not like you’re the one running around doing everything.”

“Keelah, thank you,” Todor said, sounding more than a little relieved as he continued trying to soothe the baby. “Kael, please, just for a moment, I need my hands for this…”

“Let me take him,” Axilus said suddenly, drawing quite a few looks, including from Xala himself. A big, armored turian wouldn’t exactly be his first choice for handling an infant quarian.

Todor, on the other hand, simply handed Kael off and turned to the armory door, leaving Axilus to cradle the baby close to his cowl and make soft little chirring noises. Xala looked at Han, stunned, and Han looked back at him, the feeling clearly mutual.

Todor took no notice, however, and merely opened the armory door before accepting Kael back from Axilus and proceeding to love on the little baby, kissing his brow, playing with his tiny hands, and hugging him as closely and as tightly as the natural fragility of Kael’s infant body would allow.

As the small crowd moved into the armory, Todor noticed Han and Xala looking at him and tilted his head. “What?”

Han spoke first. “You gave your infant son to a turian. Did you forget how pointy they are?”

Todor blinked slowly, then sucked in a breath. “ _Oh_. Keelah, I didn’t think about it, I didn’t even notice he was a turian, he offered, and I needed somebody to take Kael, and he just felt trustworthy, you know?”

Xala shook his head. “Not for you, no. And especially not since Kael’s only a couple months. I’d’ve thought you’d bolt the moment a turian _looked_ at your kid.”

Todor fidgeted, then carefully moved Kael back into the carrying bag and slid the bag back onto his back. “Yes, well… Whatever, let’s just go in.”

He headed in without another word. Xala and Han exchanged another look, then followed.

Inside, Xala noticed Axilus and Haasn had already gathered a small crowd of trainees asking them for help- mostly Axilus, probably thanks to the turian reputation and the fact that he definitely looked the part of trained marine already.

He and Han split up to wander through the recruits, helping them find suitable weapons and armor when necessary, making small talk when not. It was a vital part of training, if you asked him. If the recruits weren’t comfortable with them as people, then they definitely wouldn’t be comfortable with them as leaders. It was basic socialization logic, really. Nobody would want to take an order from somebody who didn’t come across as an actual person underneath the rank.

He met back up with Han and Todor on the far side of the room, still idly keeping an eye on Axilus, Haasn, and their little cluster. The poor kid who lost half a ship going through a relay was with them, as was the cheery girl who dominated at video game tournaments, a damn near massive quarian who was approaching even Axilus’ size, and a couple pre-Pilgrimage kids. Well, at least they had a sense of variety in friends.

Todor hummed to himself. “The turian seems nice enough. Do you really think it’ll work out, having him and the biotic in the marines?”

The question was directed more to Han than it was to Xala, and he didn’t disappoint. Even without seeing it, Xala knew every line of the face-splitting grin he could hear in Han’s voice as he said, “Watch this.”

He turned to face the crowd of recruits, stood at parade rest, and shouted in his command voice, “Mr. Madelivio! ARE YOU MOTIVATED?”

Axilus turned to look at him, mandibles fluttering rapidly as he processed, then drew himself up and bellowed back, “MOTIVATED, DEDICATED, OUTRIGHT FIRED UP, **_HOO-RAAAAA!”_**

The last syllable turned into a roar, and Axilus moved head back and forth slightly while flaring his mandibles down and out as far as they’d go, waggling the undersides somewhat for added effect in a gesture that Xala assumed was probably highly threatening to turians, and he’d be lying if he didn’t admit it scared him a decent amount, too, thanks to all the very sharp teeth and powerful jaws now on display.

Han nodded sharply, then shouted at the top of his lungs, “MARINES! **_ARE YOU MOTIVATED?”_**

The rest of the recruits followed Axilus’ example, and roared back in near-perfect harmony, “ ** _MOTIVATED, DEDICATED, OUTRIGHT FIRED UP_** , **_HOO-RAAAAA!”_**

Han nodded and raised a fist. “Excellent! Carry on!”

As the room returned to normal, Han turned back to Todor and clasped his hands behind his back. “I think they’re going to get on just fine.”

-

 **TO:** 0-000-135537

 **FROM:** 3-3T2-8448698

 **SUBJECT:** Observation 0-P01-7-6341Q

0-P01-7-6341Q has received upgrades to biotic equipment, as 0-000-2447749 suggested may be necessary. Training of Migrant Fleet Marine recruits is underway, and subject appears stable. Biotic output has increased following upgrades, but medical bay visits due to headaches have increased. Have suggested further monitoring to determine whether headaches are due to subject overexerting themselves or technical issues with upgrades. 0-P01-7-6341Q has agreed and will report when conclusive evidence has been gathered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you needed clarification, yes, Ax's new friend little Daro is indeed Daro'Xen, future Admiral of Special Projects. And don't get too used to long chapters, this is just how it keeps happening.


	3. Starring the Reason Shala'Raan Questions Every Single One of Her Life Decisions, Because Frankly, He's a Funnier Narrator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains a section with a psychotic episode caused by bipolar mania, inducing paranoia and dissociation related to being unsure of whether or not hallucinations are present. If you wish to skip it, the section begins with a paragraph beginning "Having somewhere to go didn’t make the ship any less creepy" and ends at the paragraph beginning "At the armory".

“Shave a dick into his head.”

Rael had barely been contributing to the conversation since they started, focusing on his experiment, so his remark took Xala by surprise. Then he shook it off, frowned at the comm, and said simply, “No,” before continuing to neatly shave off Han’s hair, which by now was almost at jaw-length.

Han puffed out a sigh. “You know, if you’d asked literally anybody but Commander No-Fun-Allowed, that would have worked.”

Xala rolled his eyes. “For admirals, you two are almost aggressively immature.”

“I was just saying what he was thinking,” Rael said innocently.

“Right. Some days, I honestly wonder how you two made it back from Pilgrimage alive.”

From his spot in the corner, not looking up from his paperwork, Todor muttered, “On that, we can agree.”

Han made an offended noise. “Todor! I thought we were friends!”

“We are. You’re just an idiot.”

Xala snorted, and Han ducked away from the razor to twist and scowl at him. “Some husband you are,” he mock-scoffed. “All this slander, and all you can do is laugh.”

“Oh, hush and sit up. I’ve still only gotten half of one side.”

Han let out a good-natured grumble and sat back up, tilting his head to allow Xala better access. “Speaking of Pilgrimages,” he mused, “you still haven’t told me what happened to the Haasn kid on his, Xala.”

Xala paused, moving the razor away from Han’s head for a moment, then sighed and continued shaving away. “The doctor from the _Tonbay_ sent over reports. You were busy with your episode on top of your usual workload, so I read them myself, and it just sort of slipped my mind to give them to you once your brain returned to baseline. Sorry about that.”

“No matter. What did the reports say?”

“She couldn’t get Haasn himself to talk about it, but Madelivio did. There were batarian slavers. Madelivio and his squad found him near death while raiding a slaver ship.”

There were sympathetic murmurs from all listening parties, even Rael. “He’ll probably be flighty around batarians, then,” Rael reasoned, the angle of his head making it look more like he was telling this to his toolbox. “Be careful with the deployments, Han. You, too, Todor. You know how it goes, with the asari and all.”

Todor shuddered slightly, just enough to get the baby sleeping on his back to stir a smidge before settling back down. “Don’t remind me.”

Xala hummed. “Mhm. And then there was an accident over a human colony. Madelivio wasn’t there, and Haasn won’t talk about it even to him, so the best Aela could guess was that he did something to a friend who didn’t come back with him.”

The sympathetic noises this time were loud enough to get Kael to wake, and Todor sighed and stood, slipping the paperwork he’d been working on back into a pocket. “Sorry, sorry. I should be getting him back to the _Nuok_ soon, anyway. Let me know if you think of a decent first deployment.”

* * *

 

**Galactic Standard Day 6, Week 5, Month 4**

**(Mid-2168 Terran CE)**

Gerrel surveyed the squad behind him, running his tongue over his teeth. Three experienced marines, just in case the recruits panicked too badly. The two biotics, of course. The big one. The one who demolished at video games. The poor sucker who’d lost half a ship in transit. Some other one who’d done nothing noteworthy enough to stick in his admittedly shoddy memory. Ten people in the squad, including himself, altogether. Should work out.

The Patrol Fleet had reported a derelict ship drifting on the other side of the star in the system the Fleet was currently passing through, a little trader vessel with its bridge blown off and bulkheads to the rest sealed tight. To his surprise, it had only taken the bare minimum of wheedling to get his mother to let the marines use it for a training mission, the only stipulation being that they had to try not to damage anything from the drive core they could still try to salvage.

He’d made some smartass comment, she’d whacked him upside the head, and he’d had to promise to work on his brain-to-mouth filter more, too. Oh, well. That’s what the medication was for.

He keyed a code into his omni-tool and pulled up a comm channel back to Neema command. “You there, Xala?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Good. Keying you into the squad radio now.”

Once the code was through, and the others had confirmed the channel was streaming into their helmets, Gerrel put his omni-tool away and pulled out his assault rifle. “Alright, listen up!” he barked. “ _Tonbay_ wants us to run through the wreck, pull out what we can, and flag anything else for salvage teams to collect once we’re gone. Xala, you checked for life signs?”

“Twice,” Xala reported. “And the _Cyniad_ ran their own scans, too, when they found it. No thermal signatures, no abnormal pockets of gases, nothing. Place is dead as the grave.”

“Excellent.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Madelivio and Haasn relax a fraction of a bit. “Then we shouldn’t need weapons, but keep ‘em drawn, just in case. Anything else?”

“Don’t be surprised if gravity drops on you while you’re in there, _Cyniad_ said basic environmental equipment were running down when they got there. I’ve sent over an engineering team to pressurize the interior and try to keep gravity on, but watch your step anyway.”

And just like that, Gerrel noticed the railing his eyes had been trained on was getting steadily lowered. “Well, that’s convenient,” he said dryly, grabbing hold of the door frame to steady himself. The rest of the squad was hurrying to grab railings, tubes, bits of wall, whatever was within reach and could be used to get back down to the floor of what remained of the bridge. “Right, everyone remember the buddy system? Grab the nearest person, that’s your new best friend in the whole wide galaxy, to the point you never want to let go of each other, ever.”

He spotted Madelivio, staring straight ahead, move his hand down and behind Haasn, and Haasn suddenly looked up at the big turian with a glare. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, calling, “While I’m all for encouraging openness in relationships, Madelivio, I said _buddy_ , not _booty_.”

Over the radio, there were some distinctly turian snickers, coupled with Yaana cackling and Haasn grumbling, “Kill me.”

He grinned himself, but waved a hand and activated his mag-boots, attaching himself to the wall and barking, “Alright, alright, settle down. Everyone make sure mag-boots are on. Special Projects gave us a shunt to get through the bulkheads, should only take a moment. Once it’s open, you get through quick as you can, there’s only a short amount of time before the shunt’ll close it again. The engineers will pressurize the place once the door’s shut behind us, but helmets stay on in case there’s anything nasty floating around.”

He slapped the shunt on the doorframe and folded his arms while he waited, still standing parallel to the ground below. Come to think of it, he’d had a teacher when he was little who had kept complaining about him running up the walls. He grinned to himself. That teacher probably hadn’t thought that saying would ever be literal.

The shunt did its magic, and the bulkhead slid open with a groan. “Right, everyone in, move it!” he barked, waving the others through before deactivating his mag-boots and pulling himself in after them, grabbing the shunt as he passed. They’d need that later.

He waited for the bulkhead to re-seal itself, then tapped the side of his helmet, activating the various programs on the left side that would compensate for his missing vision on that side. “Alright Xala, everyone’s in. Tell your little engineer friends to re-pressurize the place for us.”

“One moment.”

Gravity came back first, and he hit the floor hard, allowing himself a grunt of pain and surprise before getting to his feet and brushing himself off.

“Han, what was that? Are you alright?” Xala asked over the comm, the detachment he usually displayed while on duty breaking for a moment and concern shining through.

He grumbled. “A little warning would be nice.”

“Oh, did the gravity come back?”

“No, I hit my head on the ceiling. Of course gravity came back!”

Somebody snorted, and Gerrel grumbled to himself. Random gravity. That wasn’t ominous at all. “Are we sure this is a _turian_ ship?”

Xala made a _hrmmm_ sort of noise. “I’ll run some of the data _Cyniad_ picked up again. Something might have gotten translated or punched in wrong.”

“You do that.” He shook out his shoulders and neck, then looked around the room they’d entered. It was weirdly bare, just a table and some blacked-out windows into the next room. Some sort of very boring lounge, if he had to guess.

Well, no reason to stand around. “Alright, somebody either find a door or break one of those windows. Nothing here we can-” He noticed Reegar glaring around with shoulders hunched, and nodded sharply at him. “Reegar! What’re you on about?”

Reegar straightened up quickly, focusing on him. “Sorry, sir. I just recognize this architecture, is all. Definitely not turian.”

Gerrel swore he could hear his brain playing elevator music as what Reegar had said processed. Then he cursed. “Xala, kid thinks this thing might be human.”

Xala made a noise Gerrel couldn’t quite place. “Well, that’d explain the haywire gravity. I’ll keep running the data, just to be certain. In the meantime, please at least try to be careful. I didn’t pull your ass out of that merc fight to lose you to an improperly-fastened floor panel.”

Gerrel grinned. “Aw, Xala, you _do_ care about me.”

“I _married_ you.”

“Still nice to get a reminder.” He chuckled to himself, then motioned to the squad. “Come on, come on, either find or make a way through already. Special Projects starts whining if we take too long to find their souvenirs.”

His HUD alerted him to movement where his left peripherals should be, and he turned his head to see Madelivio making his way up to one of the blacked-out windows. One armored talon came up to scratch at the glass, then he rubbed his hand against it.

Gerrel grumbled, then barked, “Hey, Tweety, the gunk is on the other side!”

Madelivio looked at him for a moment, then Gerrel heard a sharp snort coupled with a faint metallic rattling over the radio before Madelivio raised his assault rifle and smashed it against the glass once, twice, three, four times.

With a shrieking crash, the glass shattered, and the squad gathered around the hole Madelivio had made to peer in. The room was covered in the same black stuff as the windows, so it was hard to make anything out, but that was what the scanners in his HUD were for. He activated a 3-D display generator, calibrated to send the light to his left retina in a way that would compensate for the way his cornea would otherwise block and warp it, then looked around the room, his working eye shut so the scanner could do its magic. “Couple beds, few tables, lots of cabinets, a desk… Well, hel- _lo_ …” He put his hands just shy of where the window frame still had shards of glass sticking out of it, then leaned in a little further to get a better look at something in the corner. “Now, that’s a regen cage if I’ve ever seen one. I’d say you found the medbay, Madelivio.”

He holstered his assault rifle and took out his shotgun, using the wider barrel to start clearing the remaining glass from the frame. Once that was done, he vaulted himself up and through the empty space, landing with a small grunt. The others followed him through, and he switched from the scanner back to his working eye. “Let’s see, now,” he mused, looking around. What the HUD had told him were beds looked more like tables with weird boxes made of springs perched on top. The black gunk was more concentrated on the floor and around the lower half of the room, starting to thin out more as it approached the ceiling and even disappearing in places. A quick scan of the chemical makeup confirmed it- “Soot,” he said, walking further into the room and twisting to see the footprints he’d made. “Doesn’t explain the bridge, but if there was a fire, then everyone’d had to leave in a hurry. Cabinets and everything look metal, should still be plenty of useable supplies left. Everyone remember to clean your suits when you’re able.”

There was a chorus of “Yes, sir”s, and he stopped walking to survey the squad again. Half of them were trying their best to let as little of themselves touch the soot as possible, while the other half had accepted their fate of spending hours cleaning and were already starting to spread out through the room. “Put your pads down, getting suit in your soot- _soot_ in your _suit_ won’t kill you.”

As the rest of the squad uneasily set their boots down for better footing, he heard a startled yelp off on his blind side, and turned to see what was the matter. Haasn had managed to get a cupboard open, but when he turned around, his front side- including his mask- was covered in soot. He reached up with one hand and slowly wiped his mask clean, then complained, “Why is it always _me?”_

Madelivio snorted. “Hey, could be worse. Could be like Siri.”

Haasn gave Madelivio a long look, then started walking towards him. “Hey, Ax, c’mere.”

“Oh, no.” Madelivio practically jumped across the room, stamping his feet and shaking his head. “Fuck no.”

“Aw, c’mon, just a hug?” Haasn was sounding increasingly malicious as he crossed the room, chasing Madelivio around incessantly.

Gerrel snickered, then activated the camera in his visor and switched to a private channel with Xala. “Remember when we were like that?”

“Like it was yesterday,” Xala hummed. Then a beat, then, “Oh, wait, it was.”

Gerrel chuckled and switched back to the squad radio. “Alright, settle down, you two. I need two volunteers to stay here and look for anything we can salvage while the rest go on ahead.”

A few hands tentatively went up, and he pointed at the first two whose names he could remember off the top of his head. “Zahiya, Yaana. Grab medi-gel, any equipment that’s not too crispy, whatever’s still functional or at least salvageable. Rest of you, with me.”

Other than the pervasive layer of soot over everything, the ship was eerily empty. Even the scanners in his HUD weren’t making much of anything out. It was enough to send chills down his spine, and that _never_ happened.

He was relieved when they came across a stairwell leading to the floor below. At least that was _something_ to break the monotony of charred walls. “Sooner we get off this wreck, the better, so we split up here,” he said, turning to face the others. He would have wanted to split up the biotics so each squad could have one, but given Haasn’s state… “Madelivio, Haasn, Seyya, with me. We’ll check out the rest of this floor. Rest of you, head downstairs and see if you can find engineering or anything else useful salvage crews will want. Savval, you’ve been on these missions before, you know what to look for. You lead.”

The marine he’d addressed nodded, and he continued, “Right, keep in radio contact. Get going.”

The two parties set off deeper into the gloom, and Gerrel felt what little hair there was on his scalp standing on end as they only found more nothing, like the place had never been inhabited in the first place.

Until they got to the mess hall, and the scattered remains of meals left behind as their owners fled for their lives almost made him wish it had been just as deserted as the rest of the place.

“Right, this is a fair-size ship,” he said to the three following him. “Probably a crew to match. Got to be plenty of food in here somewhere. Spread out, see what you can find that we can take back to the Fleet.”

They murmured affirmatives, and everybody went to a different area. Seyya started digging through upper cupboards, Madelivio searched drawers, and Haasn wandered along one wall, shining the flashlight on his shotgun around to try and find anything the soot might be hiding.

Gerrel was just crouching down to search lower cupboards when Haasn gave a grunt of effort, then said, “Uh, sir? I think you should take a look at this.”

He glanced up, then pushed himself up and sauntered over to the door Haasn had opened, footsteps behind him telling him Madelivio and Seyya had decided to follow.

In the room Haasn had found were rows upon rows of shelves, stacked with boxes, cans, bottles, and more. Gerrel gave an appreciative whistle, then clapped Haasn on the shoulder. “Good work, kid. You found the jackpot. We’ll flag this spot for salvage, but let’s see what we can find, first. Have to send it to processing first to translate everything to dextro instead of levo, but there should be something we can use.”

The four of them moved into the room, using omni-tool apps to light the way better than gun-mounted flashlights could in the limited area. For the most part, boxes were neatly labeled. Mostly freeze-dried crap, but even that was better than nutrient paste, if you asked Gerrel. There were MREs, too, and several boxes which the nutrient labels informed him were probably full so full of preservatives they’d literally never go bad, including something called a “Twinkie.”

From 2143.

Ew.

The canned food, luckily, appeared to be unexpired, if their collective understanding of the Terran calendar was correct. The only real issue with it was that most of it seemed to be…

“Xala, have you ever heard of SpagBol?”

_“What?”_

Gerrel turned the can over and over in his hand, trying to find something he could understand. “Ninety percent of what’s here is something called ‘SpagBol.’ Figured you might know something, you’re smart.”

“I have literally never heard of that, ever, in my entire life.”

“Then look it up, I’m not going to be the one to tell my mother we found a whole lot of _something_ but have no idea what it _is_.”

Xala sighed, then Gerrel heard distant typing. Xala had always made little nonsense noises to himself whenever he typed, and now was no exception; for a few solid minutes, all Gerrel heard on the other end of the comm was a steady stream of “da-da-da, hm-hm-hm, tck tck tck tck tck, tschhhhhhhh…” before his husband finally went, “Ah-ha! Here it is. Found it in some old human book, oddly enough. Some sort of… science fiction, I think. Revolving around appearances. Looks interesting, if dated.”

“And you say _I_ get off track easily.”

“Right, sorry. SpagBol is something called… spiggety balrog-knees? There’s no pronunciation guide, unfortunately. Some sort of noodle dish, near as I can tell.” A pause, then, “Is it really ninety-percent SpagBol over there, or are you rounding up?”

“Xala, there is enough spiggety here to give everyone in the Fleet a can.”

“ _That’s_ rounding up.”

“Whatever lets you sleep at night, love.” Gerrel put the can he’d been holding back in its place, then turned to head back out of the room. He paused maybe halfway out, then grabbed the box of “Twinkies” off the shelf and tapped it against the scaffolding to draw the other three’s attention. “Dare one of you to try these.”

He tossed the box to Seyya, who looked it over. “The date on the box is from, what, a Terran quarter-century ago? No way.”

He tossed it to Madelivio, who checked it for himself. “Yeah, these are from before Relay 314.” He hesitated, then slipped them into the bag at his hip, prompting an “ _ewww_ ” from Haasn.

Gerrel snickered. “That’s the spirit, Madelivio. Let’s go.”

Just as they were starting to dig into the cupboards again, the radio crackled. “Sir? This is Savval. Do you read?”

He paused to adjust the signal and clear up some minor static, then answered, “Go ahead, Savval. Find something?”

“Armory, sir. Big one.”

“Really, now… Anything good?”

“Lots of guns.”

“You don’t say. Guns, in an armory. Who’d’ve thought.”

Savval sighed. “Sorry, sir, let me clarify: lots of guns _I’ve never seen before_. Not even on extranet rumor forums. And there’s some sort of sigil on the wall, but I don’t know what it is.”

“Now you’re speaking my language, Savval. Send me your location, we’ll be there shortly. Zahiya, Yaana, you done in the medbay?”

The radio crackled again, then Zahiya responded. “Almost, sir. Just moving a couple things so salvage can get a better hold of ‘em.”

“When you’re done with that, meet the rest of us in the armory, understood?”

“Yessir.”

“Good. Gerrel out.” A moment later, a blip appeared in his HUD’s map of the area, and he motioned for the other three to follow him with a jerk of his head as he headed off.

Having somewhere to go didn’t make the ship any less creepy. If anything, it just made the eerie air in the place worse. The electricity crackling under his skull felt like it would jump out of his head at any moment, and chills were running up and down his spine like a climbing wall. “Xala, you’re sure we’re all clear?” he asked over a private channel at one point during the walk.

“Positive. Nobody on that ship but you, and nobody in this system but us.”

His husband’s dulcet voice did nothing to reassure him. “You’re really sure?”

Xala sighed patiently. “Without a doubt. Besides, you’ve explored most of the ship, haven’t you? If there was anything waiting to jump you, it would have happened by now. You’re okay, Han, I promise.” A pause. “Did you remember your medications last night? The anti-psy?”

“I think so. Didn’t I?” His heart started creeping into his throat. “Keelah, I thought I did-”

“Shh, Han, shh,” Xala soothed quickly. “I’ll run and check in a moment. Stay calm. You have the emergency doses on you, right?”

He lifted one foot and rolled his ankle, feeling the syringe stored inside his boot press against his bones through the endosuit. “Yeah.” But what if it wasn’t really there? He had to check, had to see it-

“Han, I’m going to keep talking for a while, okay? I want you to focus on my voice. Nothing else. Don’t think, just listen to me, okay? Deep breaths. I have the remote access for your suit on my omni-tool, I can release more medication into your system if you need it, just say the word.”

“I… Yeah, okay. Okay, thanks, Xala.”

True to his word, Xala kept talking to him over that private channel throughout the walk to the armory, a steady stream of calm, gentle words that slowly pushed back the wave of paranoia. Keelah, the man was a blessing.

At the armory, Xala finished his spiel and switched back to the squad radio like nothing had happened, back to business. The other squad had already started to unpack one weapons locker, while another sat under the table, marks in the soot showing it had refused to open against an onslaught of scrabbling fingers. Zahiya and Yaana had already arrived, and were working on clearing more soot off what he assumed was probably the sigil Savval had mentioned. “Alright, raise your hand if you’re not here,” he said, striding into the room and mentally giving the mania a little kick to restart it. He noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, then snorted. “Put that hand back down, Haasn, you’re not fooling anybody.”

There was a chorus of muffled laughter, then Savval said, “Everybody’s here, sir.”

“Excellent. What have you found?”

Savval motioned him over, and he trotted to stand next to her as she said, “Looks like prototypes, mostly. And mods. Bunch of mods. We think there’s a shooting range attached to this room, too, but the door’s impossible and the glass in the window is thicker than in that first room. Nahza’s looking for something heavy enough to throw at it.” There was a loud crash, followed by tinkling, and Savval said, “Correction: he’s not looking anymore.”

Nahza gave a quiet snicker, then Gerrel nodded and shook Savval’s hand. “Nice work, Savval. Let’s take a look at that sigil.” Raising his voice to address the rest of the squad, he added, “You lot take a look at the guns, see if there’s anything worth not telling Special Projects about. And somebody get that other crate open.”

He followed Savval over to the other wall, stepping out of the way for Zahiya and Yaana to head back to the guns, then folded his arms and looked up at the sigil. Four thick lines, with sharp angles and arranged in a pattern that he supposed was probably supposed to be scary to whoever made it. “Almost looks turian, don’t it?”

Savval nodded. “That’s we thought, at first. But there’s no trace of anything like it on the extranet, and searches for turian emblems find design inconsistencies. It’s too geometric. Angles are too harsh, lines are too thick. No curves or thickness variation.”

“Hm.” He thought for a moment, then gave up on that and pulled up his omni-tool. “Xala,” he said, lining up the lens on his omni-tool’s camera just right. “I’m sending you a picture of this thing. Send it to Special Projects, see if their people can find anything on it.”

“Yes, sir.”

He sent the picture, then a commotion behind them drew his attention back to everyone clustered around the weapons. “And what are you all on about?”

Nahza turned around, then motioned him over. “Well, y’see,” he said, gesturing to a long, oddly tubular gun that Reegar was holding with both hands and clear strain. "We found this thing, right. And we’re like, ‘the fuck is this?’ And whoever left it here didn’t leave no instructions or nothin’. So we go lookin’ all over the damn thing, and we find some writing, but it must be in some dialect that ain’t got translated yet, ‘cause all the letters are translatin’, but the word itself ain’t.”

Gerrel stared at him for a moment. “Nahza, are you from a liveship?”

“Yessir.”

“I can tell. What’s the word on the gun?”

Reegar turned it over in his hands to take a better look. “Uh… Keh… Kevin… Kevingeshneggle, sir.”

“That’s incredible.”

“That’s not the best part, though,” Nahza said. “Turian took a look at it, and it’s translatin’ into some’in’ totally different for ‘im.”

“And what does it say for you, Madelivio?” Gerrel asked, turning to look at the turian in question.

Madelivio looked down. “Dickbutt.”

Gerrel blinked. “Come again?”

“Dickbutt, sir. It says dickbutt. It’s the dickbutt rifle.”

Gerrel blinked again, more slowly, then shook his head. “That’s my new favorite gun.”

Over the comm, Xala groaned, and Gerrel grinned. “Alright, everybody grab a gun, let’s see what these things do. We know what’s in the other crate yet?”

“No, sir,” Nahza said. “But from how much security they got on it, probably heavy weapons.”

“Nice. Can always use more of those. Mark it for Special Projects.”

“Yessir.”

The thing Nahza had thrown through the window turned out to be at the perfect height to be used as a step. Not particularly wanting to bother with clearing out yet more glass, they moved over the still-locked second crate and carefully clambered through. There had only been eight actual weapons, so Haasn and Seyya “volunteered” to set up targets made from whatever they could scrounge up in the armory.

It wasn’t like anybody was going to _need_ that cabinet door anymore.

The gun he’d found, some sort of sniper rifle with a rotating barrel, he _liked_. Semi-auto, near as he could tell before it jammed. A quick fix, but he’d barely squeezed off another three rounds before it jammed again. Probably need to have Special Projects play with it for a while. Damn, they were getting everything this mission.

Then it was Madelivio’s turn, hefting a sniper rifle to his shoulder after a minute of muttering to himself about how he _swore_ he’d seen something like this gun before. He squeezed the trigger for the briefest of moments, then practically fell over when, instead of the sharp bark of your typical everyday sniper, a harsh sputter like the gears in an engine that needed fine-tuning came out and the cabinet door at the far end of the room answered with an angry **_ratatatatatatatatatatatatatat!_**

Once Gerrel stopped ducking for cover, he stood up to see Madelivio looking down at the rifle. He couldn’t see his expression, of course, but judging from the slope of his shoulders and the way he was holding the gun, he’d hazard a guess of “reverent awe.”

Haasn pretty much confirmed it for him. “Ax. Ax, stop giving the gun goo-goo eyes. _Ax._ ”

Gerrel grinned to himself. “Oh, so I was right, that _was_ what he was doing.”

“My dad told me about these,” Madelivio said, ignoring them. “They’re supposed to still be in testing stages on Oma Ker. Fully-automatic, high-efficiency heat sinks, best for mid-range but compatible with top-of-the-line sniper scopes to increase accuracy at distance…”

Turians. Species of gun nuts. Gerrel was just starting to shake his head to himself when Madelivio sucked in a breath suddenly with a high-pitched wheeze. _“This is property of the Empire oh spirits my dad’s gonna kill me-”_

“Hey, hey, easy, Madelivio,” Gerrel said, stepping up to clap the turian on the shoulder. “What the Hierarchy doesn’t know won’t kill you. Just don’t let him find out, yeah? You’ll be fine.”

Madelivio let out a shrill whine, but quickly swallowed it back down and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Reegar! Your turn!”

How Gerrel made it to the ceiling, he wasn’t quite sure. One minute, Reegar had been getting ready to test the dickbutt rifle, and the next, Gerrel was counting the speckles in the ceiling tile and listening to the ringing in his ears, his fingers and toes hooked into holes in the ceiling he decided not to look too closely at.

He cast a glance over one shoulder, trying to see the others. Madelivio and Seyya had both somehow been jumped by three marines apiece, their heads almost completely obscured by the quarians precariously balanced on their shoulders.

Hold on.

Madelivio and Seyya, plus three apiece, that was eight, and himself made nine…

Uh-oh.

He twisted a little more, trying to see where Reegar had gone, then almost lost his grip on the ceiling in surprise. “ _Shit!_ Uh, Xala, you there?”

There was some static, then Xala’s voice cut back in. “Keelah, sorry, Han, that gunshot blew a speaker. What’s going on?”

“Well, not to alarm you or anything, but we’re going to need med evac. As in, right now, immediately, as fast as their legs can carry them.”

Xala cursed. “ _What happened_ , Han?”

“Look, all I know is, there’s a certain way arms are supposed to look, and that’s not it.”

“Ohhh, keelah. I’ll get medical out right away. Stay where you are, and for the love of all that is good in this galaxy, _please_ don’t test any more of those guns.”

* * *

 

Gerrel settled back against Xala’s chest, taking a moment to enjoy the pleasant calm creeping into his skull as the medication took effect. No more crackles, no more chills. Not until he needed the next dose, anyway.

Xala hummed and idly ran a hand along the fuzz that was just starting to grow in on Gerrel’s head. “I like that Seyya one.”

Gerrel raised a brow, going to pull his omni-tool up. “And why’s that?”

He heard the smile in Xala’s voice, and he could picture every gentle curve. “During your episode, the scanners said he moved up to cover your blind side while you were… distracted.”

Gerrel paused to consider this, then smiled slightly, going into his contacts. “You should get some rest. Can’t have been an easy day for you.”

“Not particularly, no,” Xala hummed, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. “Going to call Todor?”

“Yeah. Told him I’d let him know how the mission went.”

Xala chuckled quietly. “He’s probably already heard.” He yawned, then tucked his arms around Gerrel’s waist and nudged his head affectionately. “You go to sleep, too, once you’re done with Todor. Your day was even more eventful than mine.”

“I will. Promise.” He twisted around so Xala could kiss him, then went back to keying in the codes for the comm.

Todor picked up on the second ring this time. “Hello, Han. How’s the Reegar boy?”

Gerrel muttered a curse. “So you did hear.”

“Bits and pieces. Apparently that crate you couldn’t get open has Special Projects besides themselves. Something about a portable nuclear weapon?”

Gerrel paused, then let out a long string of curses, only toning it down when Xala nudged him with his knee to remind him he was still trying to get to sleep.

Todor laughed. “That’s what I told Lia you’d say. Anyway, what about the biotics?”

Gerrel considered, chewing the inside of his cheek, then puffed out a little sigh. “Well, they’re certainly capable. See why the doctor wanted them to stay together. Play nice with the others, follow orders well enough…”

“So they’re shaping up well, then.”

“Mhm. I’ll authorize transfers in the morning, how many recruits do you want?”

* * *

 

 **TO:** 0-000-135537

 **FROM:** 3-3T2-8448698

 **SUBJECT:** Anomalous Finding

An unknown symbol was found on wreckage surveyed by the Migrant Fleet (see attached image). Location and prominent display suggest a logo of some sort, but no data is available. Requesting permission to look into it while case with 0-F-7-6341Q develops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to have more in it, but it was getting too long, so we're splitting it into multiple.


	4. And Now Introducing Even More Important Characters For You (and Us) To Keep Track Of

****Galactic Standard Day 7, Week 5, Month 4** **

****(Mid-2168 Terran CE)** **

“You're not doing that right.”

Thie heaved a heavy, frustrated sigh and set the piece of armor currently in his hands down hard, seething, “If I keep doing everything about this wrong, then why aren't _you_ doing it, if you're so smart?”

Axilus flicked out a mandible. “Because I'm doing the same thing? I only have two hands.”

“ _Ugh_.” Thie scowled at Axilus, then roughly scooped the armor back up, picking up the rag from where it had fallen and resuming what he was doing.

And what he was doing, and what Axilus was doing as well, was cleaning his armor of all the soot they'd picked up on the direlict just a few hours prior. Thie had it the worst; when he'd opened the cabinet, his entire front had been doused in a thick, greasy layer of grime so sticky and adhered to the fibers of his sashes and endosuit that he'd given up entirely on cleaning his suit by himself and had to send it off to be cleaned. Unfortunately, the soot proved easier to remove from his armor than his suit, and so he'd been forced to clean the armor on his own. Axilus, meanwhile, had picked up a thin layer of the stuff when Thie had tackled him shortly after being doused, and was now pouting in the corner of the clean room furthest from Thie, scrubbing at his own armor.

Cleaning the flat plates was easy enough, but digging the grime out from the various grooves and crevices lining each piece was more difficult than Thie had expected or had the patience for. An hour and a half of work and he was only just catching sight of the end, probably another half hour or so off.

_Ugh_.

The room fell silent again, both occupants quietly absorbed in their work, for about five minutes. Then Thie growled and tossed the pauldron in his hands aside. “Oh, _fuck_ this!”

Axilus snorted, his mandibles fluttering slightly as he glanced back up and said, in the most out-of-place jovial tone Thie had heard from him, “Having a good time over there?” Then he ducked his head to avoid the rag that was immediately flung at his head with a cackle.

“ _Fuck off.”_

“Can't, you're stuck with me.” Axilus grinned, then set the bit of armor he was working on (Thie couldn't quite recognize it, but it looked like one of the bits that went on his legs) aside, stood, stretched briefly, then crossed the room to crouch by Thie. “Here, let me see that.”

Thie scowled at Axilus again, then huffed and turned his head away, passing the pauldron over. Axilus wordlessly took it and seated himself at Thie's side, pulling his own sooty rag from his cowl. “Here, look.” He demonstrated a stroke. “You gotta ruffle the rag like this to get down in there, and push against it like this.” Then he showed Thie the rag and seam. “See?” He repeated the motion a few more times, then handed the rag to Thie. “You try.”

They quietly continued in this vein until Thie had finished clearing the soot out of both pauldrons and his chestpiece, and he was in the middle of redoing his helmet when the clean room door hissed open, the sound loud and sudden enough to startle both of them, and a familiarly-suited quarian stepped in, a bundle of something in his arms.

The scowl in Gerrel's voice was evident as he motioned for the both of them to stand, passing the bundle to Thie as soon as his hands were available. “Armor's clean enough, kid, get your suit back on and come on.”

“What's going on?” Axilus asked as Thie wordlessly began to redress himself. “Did something happen?”

Gerrel snorted. “Did something _happen_? Oh, something _happened_ , kid.” Then, suddenly, he spun and punched the wall, roaring, “I only just gave Special _fucking_ Projects a goddamn _portable nuke!_ _That's_ all that happened!” He punched the wall again. “ _Fuck!”_

Axilus' mandibles fluttered slightly. “Uh… Shouldn't Special Projects be the ones to look at it..?”

“I didn't even get to fucking _test fire!_ And now I'm never gonna see it for another _fuck-shit-tillion_ years while they make it _less awesome!”_

Axilus and Thie exchanged a look, then Thie fitted his helmet back into place, paused while the systems connected and activated, and quietly asked, “So, are we going somewhere?” before ducking to pick up his armor and begin fitting it on as well.

Gerrel ended his rant by punching the wall one more time, hissing an insult in some closed dialect that was most definitely not either Khelish nor Zouklian and refused to translate for either of the younger marines, which was honestly probably for the best, then turned and huffed in Thie's general direction, now much less tense. “Yeah, you're gonna go say hi to Todor for a bit and then go shoot some asshole geth while I get to do fucking _paperwork_.” He narrowed his eyes. “Lucky.”

After a short silence, which Axilus and Thie were too nervous to break, Gerrel heaved a sigh and did an about-face. “Come on, time for Xala to bitch at me for punching things again.” Under his breath, Thie heard him add, “Even though this time it wasn't Tuzh, it was a fucking _wall_.”

Axilus and Thie shared another look as Gerrel headed towards the door, grumbling under his breath the whole time, then quietly followed after exchanging a mutual shrug.

The door opened and they were immediately met with a scowl from Xala, who demanded, “Han, let me see your hand.”

Gerrel tensed slightly, then growled, thrusting his hand out. “Hi Xala, I'm your _fucking_ _husband_. Can we go?”

“ _Han.”_

“ _Fine.”_ He relaxed ever so slightly and allowed Xala to take his hand for inspection. “But it's not broken. If it was, you'd have heard me do a _lot_ more screaming than that.”

Apparently satisfied, or as close to satisfied as someone so disappointed at the moment could probably be, Xala sighed and released Gerrel's hand. “If you don't stop punching things, I swear I'm going to tell your mother.”

“That's a cheap shot, Xala.”

“It's also the only thing that _works_ for you.”

The two officers glared at each other for a moment, and Thie took the opportunity to drift behind his favorite Axilus-shaped wall of heavily-armored plating in case the tension turned into violence. But, thankfully, Xala instead simply shook his head and sighed. “Come on, Todor's been waiting for an hour now. He has better things to do than entertain recruits with stories about his infant son's antics.”

Gerrel just snorted, beginning to lead the small cluster of marines down the hall. “At least he _can_ tell stories to the recruits. _I_ always get interrupted.”

“That's because you only like to tell stories that aren't safe for the workspace,” Xala lightly replied.

“You're just jealous you weren't there when the krogan-”

“Han, if you finish that sentence, you're going to be watching vids through your ass for a month.”

Gerrel placed a hand on his chest, feigning hurt. “Xala, you _wound_ me.”

Xala simply sighed in response, shaking his head. “Yes, I seem to be doing that a lot.”

The two officers continued to bicker amicably as they made their way down the hall, occasionally cutting off in the middle of insults to greet a recruit or ask a progress update from a passing engineer only to pick up exactly where they'd left off a second later. It vaguely reminded Thie of how Aephis and Sephira interacted, and he felt an unexpected pang of homesickness upon the realization, which made absolutely no sense considering he _was_ home.

Briefly, he considered bringing it up to Axilus, but decided against it when he remembered that talking about being homesick only ever seemed to make it worse.

The bickering broke off entirely when they arrived at the airlock, Gerrel pulling away from the group to wave away the cluster of recruits and younger marines crowding around the third officer. “All right, kids, back to work! You've all got something to do, so go do it!”

With some murmurs, the group dispersed, and Todor heaved a long, heavy sigh, lowering his hands from where, Thie realized, he'd been anxiously wringing his wrists. “Thank you.”

“Eh, no problem.” Gerrel cheerfully clapped a hand down on Todor's shoulder. “Already load the others up?”

Todor nodded slightly. Thie noticed a slight quiver in his hands that matched the one in his voice as he answered, “They've been waiting for an hour now, where have you two been?”

Gerrel motioned towards the three behind him. “Xala took a nap, and I had to make sure the kids I brought with for the direlict all got their suits in to be cleaned. Sure you heard about the mess inside.”

“I did,” the other officer confirmed, then glancing at Xala. “Is what they said they found true?”

Xala nodded and crossed his arms. “The soot came from a series of explosions, it seems. That's what took the bridge off, not faulty engineering.”

Gerrel whistled. “I'm guessing the explosions weren't charges?”

“Wrong.”

“What the fuck.”

“Apparently the ship was rigged with explosive charges in case of capture,” Xala clarified with a shrug. “I'm not sure why, but it's true. The only reason there was anything left to salvage was a glitched circuit, surprisingly enough. It didn't activate when the charges in the bridge were set off, so the command never reached the rest of the ship.” He paused for a moment. “Special Project took a look at a few of the charges. They're… oddly powerful, for human technology.”

“Nuke-force?” Gerrel sounded far too enthusiastic for comfort.

Xala gave him an odd look. “No, Mr. Bombs McFlexington, not nuke-force. Just weirdly complex compared to everything else on the ship.”

“Damn.”

Todor awkwardly cleared his throat. “That's worrisome, true, but Special Projects can handle it.” He hesitated, then added, “Probably. But, we should probably get going, especially if you want us to deploy anytime within the next day or so.” He motioned to Axilus and Thie, who had been oddly quiet for the entire conversation. “I need to get them settled in and introduced to everyone first.”

“Right, of course.” Gerrel glanced back at Xala. “You coming with, or do you trust me with the glass cabinet?”

Todor made a vaguely offended noise and Xala snorted. “I trust you well enough, Han, but I'd rather be with you right now. Besides, I have nothing else to do.”

“You're my XO, you literally _always_ have stuff to do.”

“Yes, and right now, my job is making sure you don't break the glass cabinet.” Xala glanced pointedly at Todor.

Todor huffed again. “I am _not_ a glass cabinet.”

“You cried over your son's tiny hands, Son.” Ignoring Todor's indignant sputtering, Xala breezed past him and tapped the lock on the door, motioning Axilus and Thie through. “Come on.”

* * *

 “Han, you're poking me.”

“I am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Fine, your _armor's_ poking me.”

“Well, I can't exactly do anything about _that_ , now, can I?”

Xala groaned and covered his mask with his hands. “Why are you still wearing your heavy armor? The mission was hours ago!”

“I don't know if you've noticed this or not, but I'm very easily distracted.”

Todor rubbed at about where his temples should be. “Why do you two always do this?”

The response was a chorus that amounted to “because Han'Gerrel is an idiot,” and Todor groaned. “Why me...”

Gerrel and Xala settled into silence for maybe a minute. Then Xala started going, “Han. Han. _Han_. Han'Gerrel- _Gerrel!”_

“Whoops.” Gerrel straightened up, having been leaning against Xala so the edges of his armor would jab him even more out of childish spite. From the front of the shuttle, Thie distinctly heard the pilot heave a heavy, annoyed sigh and glanced up in time to see them turn autopilot on so they could bury their face in their hands.

Beside him, Todor exhaled slowly and muttered, “Same.”

Blissful peace finally fell over the occupants of the shuttle for the last few minutes of the ride, and before the shuttle had even fully landed in the _Nuok's_ shuttle bay, Todor stood up, making his way to the door. He mumbled something to the pilot, who replied something about Todor owing him, then hopped out once the door opened.

Once everyone else had disembarked and the other two officers had joined Todor at the head of the group, Todor cleared his throat and said, in a somewhat-shaky but clear voice, “Welcome to the _Nuok._ This will be your home for the next few months.”

Axilus and Thie remained near Gerrel and Xala, who had escorted them to the fringes of the group once Todor began passing out assignments and duties to the rest of the recruits, who were then led off by some of the more senior marines for orientation. Todor himself rejoined the other two officers after the last recruit had been sent off, heaving another of his iconic heavy sighs. “I forgot how nerve-wracking it was to talk to so many new people at once,” he admitted once he was close enough to be easily heard.

Gerrel rolled his shoulders back in a half-stretch half-shrug. “You seemed to do just fine. Gotten better, actually. Not stuttering anymore.”

“Only because I was too nervous to stutter,” Todor muttered under his breath. Then he sighed again and shook his head. “Right, so, now what?”

“Where's Lia?” Gerrel asked promptly, bouncing on his toes a couple times. “Haven't talked to her in ages.”

Todor made some sort of noise. “Well, I guess we could go talk to her...” He glanced at Axilus and Thie. “What about them?”

“Eh, they'd meet her eventually, anyway. Might as well now. She _is_ your XO when she's not... otherwise occupied.”

“You mean taking care of a baby.” Todor shook his head and started walking off, the rest following close behind.

“Duh. And _carrying_ the baby, and _having_ the baby… I hear those parts are particularly,” the wicked grin became painfully obvious in his voice, “ _labor-intensive.”_

Axilus flared his mandibles so hard they audibly clacked against the inside of his helmet. _“No.”_

Gerrel cackled, and Todor just groaned. “Why do you always do this?”

“I enjoy your suffering,” Gerrel cheerfully replied.

Todor stopped briefly to bury his face in his hands. “At least you're honest.” Then he picked up again.

“Yep!” Gerrel bounced slightly, then grew very tense, the cheer in his voice suddenly sounding very forced. “Unlike _some_ people I could mention.”

“Is this about Special Projects-”

“It's about fucking Special Projects!”

Todor facepalmed.

Xala sighed and accessed his omni-tool, muting Gerrel's speaker before he could go on. “Sorry about that. He's been angry about them ever since you mentioned the nuke gun.”

“Remind me not to talk about guns around him ever again,” Todor said in a low grumble.

Xala made some vaguely apologetic noise, switching Gerrel's speaker back on once he was sure he'd stopped ranting to himself, then halted briefly. “Oh!” He started walking again. “Speaking of Special Projects-”

“Is this about me?” Gerrel complained, and Xala sighed.

“No, Han, this may come as a surprise to you but not everything Special Projects does has to do with you.” Then Xala addressed Todor. “Ciril called me a few nights ago, said your anxiety meds are going to be on their way any day now. I'd expect them within the next week or so.”

Todor heaved another sigh, this one sounding considerably less weighted than the others. “Oh, keelah, I completely forgot to do that, I ran out a few nights ago, too… You're a life-saver, Aerazl.”

Xala beamed. “It's nothing.”

Gerrel made an odd noise. “How the hell is it _you_ can pronounce my husband's first name but _I_ can't?” he asked, sounding both offended and incredibly annoyed. “Whenever _I_ say it, it sounds like 'arousal'.”

Axilus snorted, somehow managing to look perfectly innocent when Xala turned to glare at him. Thie remained quiet, trying very hard to stop smiling.

Todor, meanwhile, just shrugged and answered, “Because I don't suck.”

“ _What the fuck did you just say about me, you little-”_

“Down, Han, it was a joke.”

Gerrel exhaled sharply, then made a strangled sort of noise, hands flying up to his visor. Xala just sighed. “You fogged up your visor, didn't you?”

“No!” Gerrel proceeded to walk into a wall and cursed. “Okay, fine, _maybe.”_

Xala pulled his husband aside, and the rest of the group slowed to a stop to watch him move Gerrel's hands aside and reach for his faceplate. “Here, let me just...”

As soon as Xala removed his visor, Gerrel reached up, grabbed Xala's off, and pulled him in for a kiss. Axilus and Thie both winced when their helmets met with a loud _clank_. “Love you, Xal.”

Xala grimaced. “Clearly not, if you're still calling me that.”

Gerrel just cackled, as he was wont to do, and replaced Xala's faceplate while Xala, with a sigh, did the same for him.

Todor glanced between the two of them and bluntly stated, “You're adorable.”

“I know, right?”

Then the group headed off again for the crew quarters, which turned out to be the ship's old mess hall, as was standard with most quarian vessels. Bulkheads had been cleared out, making for a large, vaulted room filled to bursting with people and small, colorful cubicles lined with whatever meager possessions the occupants owned. Surprisingly, despite being a living area, very few quarians reacted to Axilus's presence with much more than the odd raised eyebrow or brief exclamation of surprise at the enormous plated person suddenly taking up half the walkway and looking very awkward about it.

Todor navigated the narrow aisles automatically, making a beeline for one with a beautiful cloth depicting, as far as Thie could tell, some turian legend featuring a large lizard draped across the opening. “Lia?” he called as he pulled the drapery back, and then he paused. “Wait...”

A quarian from the next cubicle poked her head out. “Oh, hey, Son. You're back early.”

“Oh, hello, Elani.” Todor let the drape fall back into place. “Where's Lia?”

“Went t'work out. Said somethin' 'bout not bein' able to for months on end.” The quarian, Elani, made some sympathetic-sounding noise. “Took th' baby with 'er. I offered t'babysit, but she said nah.”

“Oh, I see.” Todor's hands automatically raised again, and he started fidgeting. “Do you know which room she's in?”

Elani shrugged. “Said somethin' 'bout liftin'. Best check the rec by the armory'r such.”

“Right, I will. Thank you, Elani.” The woman barely nodded, slipping back into her cubicle, and Todor heaved another heavy, anxious sigh. “Oh, keelah, she took Kael to a rec room, I _knew_ I should've told her I'd be back sooner...”

“Hey, no big deal, Sonny.” Gerrel pushed past Thie and slung an arm around Todor's shoulders. “You know what that means?”

“No, what?”

“It means we get to take these _das_ helmets off,” Gerrel chirped. Then, after a slight pause, “Plus we get to see you cry over your kid's tiny hands in person.”

Todor flushed so hard it was visible through his visor. “I do not cry about Kael's tiny hands!”

“That's not what Lia says.”

“ _Ugh.”_ Todor shook Gerrel's arm off his shoulders and huffed. “Come on, the armory is this way.”

The walk was quick and surprisingly quiet, conversation reduced to quiet mumbling between the married couple and odd glances shared between the younger two. They only started speaking again once they arrived at the clean room and entered decontamination.

“So, can I take off my helmet?” Axilus questioned, glancing over at the older three. “Cuz, I mean, I know I'm supposed to keep it on and stuff, but this is a clean room, right?”

Xala shrugged. “I don't see why not. Just… try not to breathe on anyone.”

“Can I?” Thie quietly asked after a moment, and Xala nodded.

Which, of course, meant that by the time they'd entered the rec room, no one was wearing a helmet. Instead, five helmets joined the three already on the rack by the door, and Todor led the group over to where one quarian woman was lying on her back with weights in her hands, a child on her stomach, and her legs in the air with a mobile cleverly clutched between her feet for the child to bat at.

Gerrel whistled as they got closer, and Thie saw the woman raise her head, then put it back down again and do another rep. “How much are you benching there, Lia?”

The woman, Lia, puffed out a breath as she lifted the bar again, then responded, sounding only slightly strained, “Eh, a hundred kilos.” She repeated the motion. “I _can_ bench one-fifty, but...” She repeated it again. “I _did_ have a kid only a little while ago.”

Todor fidgeted. Thie couldn't help but notice that, despite his apparent youth, lines had already begun to appear around his eyes, which seemed to have permanent bags beneath them. His eyes were wide and his eyebrows constantly furrowed, which, combined with the permanent bags and lines around his eyes, gave him a distinctly haunted look. In spite of that, he was rather attractive, with a soft, narrow face and long, messy hair which framed his face and brushed at his cheeks. He was much more slightly-built than Gerrel, yet had just more bulk than Xala, giving him a distinctly athletic appearance. When he spoke, his voice was soft and tentative, carrying that familiar undertone of anxious tension that Thie remembered hearing in Siri's voice. “Lia, are you sure you should be working out so soon? I mean, you just had a child, I-”

Lia raised her head with a huff. “C'mon, Son, have a little faith in me. I'm not a weakling.” Then she laid her head back down and resumed what she was doing. “Besides, I need this. If I sit in that cubicle with nothing but paperwork to do for much longer, I'm gonna lose it.”

“I-” Todor abruptly halted and sighed, reaching up to run a hand through his hair now that his helmet wasn't in the way. “You're right, I'm sorry.”

“Eh, don't be. You're a worrywart.” A smile broke out over Lia's face as she fondly added, “That's part of why I fell for you in the first place.” She hefted the bar again, then paused. “Though, would you mind taking Kael? I kinda need my feet back. Losing feeling and all.”

“Oh, right, of course.” Todor reached down and scooped up the baby sitting on Lia's stomach, cradling him carefully. “Did you miss me?”

The child cooed, reaching up and tangling his tiny hands in Todor's already-messy hair. “Da.”

Lia glanced up at Todor, then chuckled. “Oh, there he goes, he's crying over Kael's tiny hands again.”

“I am not.” He reached up to wipe away a tear anyway.

"Uh-huh, right," Gerrel scoffed. "Then what's that?"

"I'm not crying, I have a _shoda_ in my eye."

"Hey, now."

Xala snickered, and Gerrel gave him a betrayed look. "Xala! You're supposed to defend me, not laugh at me, that's why I married you!"

"No, you married me for my butt, the sex, and the unconditional love, because you're gay."

Axilus snorted, and Gerrel grumbled, "Well, you're not _wrong_..."

“No squabbling in front of the baby,” Lia scolded, finishing her last rep and replacing the bar so she could sit up. After a brief stretch and a yawn, she went to stand, dusting herself off. “So, are these the biotics?”

In stark contrast to Todor, who was rather tall for a quarian (though not nearly so tall as Han'Seyya, the quarian recruit who had already reached Axilus's height and had begun to bulk out considerably enough for Gerrel to comment on how big he was probably going to get) and relatively skinny, Lia was short and curvy, with visible pudge around her middle. Her hair was jaw-length, like Xala's, but sharply reverse-bobbed and parted at one side rather than more or less down the middle. She, like Gerrel, was the sort to always look like she was smiling, with full lips that always seemed quirked up at the corners and warm eyes. Absolutely nothing about her telegraphed that she could lift 100 kilos like it was nothing, which Thie honestly found to be more than a little bit terrifying.

As response to Lia's inquiry, Todor glanced up at Gerrel, who answered, “Yep. Somethin' Madelivio and Thie'Haasn vas _Tonbay_.”

“Axilus,” Axilus volunteered. “I'm Axilus Madelivio.”

Lia glanced the both of them over, then nodded. “Nice.” She offered Axilus a hand, then Thie. “Good to meet you. I'm Lia'Adas vas _Nuok_ , Son's wife and the _Nuok's_ usual XO. But thanks to _that_ little handful,” she pointed at Kael, whom Todor had passed to Gerrel and who was now delightedly rubbing his hands against Gerrel's fuzzy excuse for hair, “I'm still on leave for the time being.” She glanced over to Todor. “Make sure to introduce them to Vasya.”

Todor nodded slightly. “I know, I know. That's where we were going next, and then we have a deployment.”

“That so?” Lia glanced back to Gerrel, arching an eyebrow. “So soon?”

“Yep.” Gerrel rolled his shoulders back in another combination stretch-shrug. “We're passing through the Far Rim for a little bit. Special Projects wants to check on this star, Dholen. Something about it acting weird or something, lots of big words like “premature sequence-shift” and “hydrostatic equilibrium” and other smart-people-talk like that.” He grinned. “Pansy-ass techs can't be bothered to go down on the planet Haestrom to take readings from the old outpost- too much risk of geth response- so they asked us to.” He jerked his head towards Axilus and Thie. “Figure it'll give Sonny Boy a great chance to bond with these two.”

Todor gave an alarmed sort of noise. “Wait, you're sending us to fight geth?”

Gerrel shrugged again. “Maybe. All depends on circumstances when you get there.” Then he grinned. “I really fuckin' hope so, though.”

“I don't like the sound of that.” Lia frowned, reaching to take Kael from Gerrel and looking to Todor. “I'm not letting you go alone on this one, I'll find Kael a babysitter and-”

“No!” Kael squirmed around to cling to Lia's neck, abruptly cutting her off.

“Oh, dear...” Todor moved to pry the child off of Lia's neck, flinching back when Kael screeched in response.

“Ma stay!” Kael demanded, clinging tighter to Lia. “Pliss?”

“Oh, for...” Lia groaned and patted Kael's back. “Kael, Mommy needs to go with Daddy. Can you please-”

“No! Pliss?”

“Kael-”

“ _No!”_

“Lia, Lia, it's okay!” Todor held his hands up. “I'll be okay, I promise. If you don't stay, Kael's going to be a noisy handful the whole time we're gone, and I'd _really_ rather not do that to anyone...”

Lia groaned, finally managing to pry Kael's arms off her neck so she could talk without hindrance. _“Fine_. This kid's going to grow up so spoiled with you for a father...”

“Damn. And here I was hoping I could send the Dynamic Duo of Son and Lia down to fuck up some geth.” Gerrel shook his head. “You two could probably win back the homeworld on your own.”

“Don't encourage her,” Todor muttered. Then he sighed and moved to hug Lia tightly, kissing both her and Kael in turn. “I love you, Lia. And you too, Kael.”

Lia pouted and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Be careful down there, Son. If you die, I'm going to figure out how to bring dead bodies back to life specifically so I can kick your ass into the afterlife myself.”

He fought back a smile. “I'll keep that in mind.”

* * *

**TO:** 0-000-1

**FROM:** 0-000-135537

**SUBJECT:** 3-3T2-8448698; Anomalous Logo

3-3T2-8448698 has made no progress in investigating the logo found by Migrant Fleet Marines and is requesting permission to contact 0-000-3 for assistance. Progress reports on 0-F-7-6341Q are forthcoming; subject has been deployed on a ground mission and 0-H01-263367 will forward the mission report once it is complete. Further, 0-000-5 requests assistance in obtaining replacement parts, stating several tarsal and metatarsal rods and joints require repair, reinforcement, and possibly replacement following incidence with 0-000-3.


	5. On Wednesdays, We Wear Pink (and by 'Pink' I Mean Heavy Armor)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring a POV switch because I love my _Son._
> 
> [rimshot]

****Galactic Standard Day** ** ****3** ** ****, Week** ** ****6** ** ****, Month 4** **

****(Mid-2168 Terran CE)** **

“Axilus, don't you dare.”

Axilus moved the plastic-wrapped cake-looking thing a half-inch closer to his face, one brow plate rising.

Thie grimaced. “I'm serious, don't do it. Just put your helmet back on and don't.”

“What is it?” Lila leaned forward in her seat, eyes wide and head cocked. “Is it from the derelict?”

“Yeah, and it's weird. Take a look.” Axilus tossed the opened box to Lila, who fumbled it and only just barely caught it before it tumbled to the ground. “I can't smell anything on it.”

“That's because it's wrapped in plastic, Axilus. As are most things you really shouldn't ingest.”

Axilus stuck his tongue out at Thie, who grimaced again at the length of it. “You're just saying that 'cause you're a wimp with no adventurous instinct.”

“I'm a wimp with a survival instinct, not a 'kill myself with food poisoning' instinct. Are you seriously faulting me for that?”

“Yes.” Then, without further warning, Axilus raised the cake-thing to his mouth and bit down on it, plastic and all. He grinned when Thie made a retching noise and twisted away, covering his mask with both hands. “It's not that bad, really. A little too sweet. Kinda like _mellicar,_ except it tastes like it was made in a factory and forgot about for a few years.” He flicked a mandible out. “Which I guess it kind of was.”

Todor glanced back from his seat beside the pilot. “What are you three going on about back there?”

“He's eating something that's not only older than him, but older than _me_ ,” Thie complained. “And it's not even dextro!”

“Oh.” A pause. _“Ew.”_

“Exactly!” Thie glanced back to the other two, then loudly groaned. “Oh, for- Lila!”

Lila looked up from the cake-thing she'd been nibbling on, blinking rapidly. “What? I was curious.” Beside her, one of the marines Thie didn't know edged away from her, kicking the box back over to Axilus, who casually scooped it back up and dumped the contents into one of his many newly-installed pockets.

Thie heaved a heavy sigh. “At least _you_ took the plastic off….”

* * *

Haestrom was hell.

To put it slightly more eloquently, Haestrom was the boiling, irradiated, metaphorical hairy armpit of the galaxy. Dholen, the system's star, had begun acting strangely even before the geth uprising, casting off so much energy that the volume rendered the planet's magnetosphere all but useless. As such, even standing in the shade was enough to overwhelm Son'Todor's suit's temperature regulation unit, and he could feel sweat already pooling at the seam between his helmet and suit.

He shifted his grip on the battered Kovalyov in his hands, glancing back at the group of marines huddled beneath the cover of the shuttle. Nine including the turian, who was still climbing out of the shuttle. “Everyone all right?”

The turian, Madelivio, hopped free of the shuttle and strode directly into the sun, standing there as Son stared blankly after him with his hands on his hips like the cover of a human-made action movie. “Ah, reminds me of ho- oh, ow, ow, fuck, nevermind!” Now back within the shade, he shook his neck out and rubbed a gloved hand over the exposed skin of his neck, grimacing. “Ow. Fuck that, I'm putting my helmet on.”

Son shook his head, then motioned to the others to huddle up once Madelivio had secured his helmet. “The science team has already arrived. If the information Aerazl gave us is accurate, they're holed up in a compound just across that courtyard,” he pointed past a building down the ramp they were standing on, “waiting for us to escort them. Fire in short bursts, and stick to cover. The sun will fry your shields in a heartbeat, and with this heat, your sinks are going to reach capacity a little earlier than you're used to.” Then he paused and added, “How many of you have had live combat experience?”

Four hands went up, Madelivio's and Haasn's included.

Son sighed. “Good enough. Those of you without combat experience, stick to cover. Don't fire if you're taking fire. Understand? No heroes.”

With that, he turned on his heel, bringing his rifle to bear. “Stay close.” And then he started to run at a light jog, fast enough to make decent progress but slow enough that the less athletic marines could still keep up.

The place was, obviously, deserted, yet retained enough of a civilized feeling to feel just _wrong_ enough that Son refused to lower his rifle below the ready position, shining the flashlight on the barrel into each darkened corner before continuing by. The niggling voice in the back of his mind was more than happy to contribute to his paranoia, to the point that he had to take shelter for a brief few minutes in a shaded corner so he could regain his wits and stop feeling like he was going to throw up. At least the brief dashes across the unshaded areas were, well, brief, and there was more than enough cover in case a firefight _did_ ensue.

Then he hit the holo-lock on the bunker the science team was supposedly hiding within and felt the tension in his chest begin to ease, if only out of relief that there would be someone else to talk to.

One of the science techs, a tiny quarian recently back from her Pilgrimage, looked up from the terminal she'd been poking at when the door slid open, lighting up at the sight of the marines. “Oh!”

From somewhere behind him, Son heard a sharp intake of breath. Then Haasn and Madelivio rushed past him, Madelivio scooping the tiny quarian up in a hug and Haasn wrapping his arms around the turian and the entombed tiny quarian a second later. Idly, Son realized that Madelivio was so tall and the little quarian so small that she was literally more than two full feet off the ground. “Siri! You're okay!”

Son chuckled a bit and lowered his rifle, moving it to the mag-holster on his back. “I take it you three know each other?”

“Yeah!” Hilariously, Son could hear Madelivio's mandibles clicking against the inside of his helmet even from a distance. “She crashed on Palaven and wound up working for my mom!”

The little one blushed violently enough that Son could see it through her visor. “It- it was an accident!” she squeaked, and Madelivio just laughed and said, “Tell that to the poor bastard whose barn you demolished.”

Questioning murmurs immediately filled the air as everyone but those three began to wonder exactly how eventful a Pilgrimage such a small shy thing as she could have endured, and Son shook his head and held up a hand to quiet them down. “What's your name?” he asked the little quarian once the murmurs had ceased and Madelivio had (very carefully) put her down.

The little quarian shrank a little, ducking her head and bringing her hands in to her chest to wring at her wrists. “Siri'Yanna vas _Yaska_ ,” she shyly responded, flushing such that it was visible even through her visor when Haasn and Madelivio exchanged twin looks of pride and muttered between themselves.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Yanna,” Son said with a respectful dip of his head. “I am Commander Son'Todor vas _Nuok_. Are you the head of the science team we were sent to protect?”

“O-oh, I...” Miss Yanna looked down and fidgeted with her sashes. “No, I-”

“Hold on, did she say Yanna?” came another voice from the rear, and Son suppressed a sigh as one of the marines he was a little less familiar with pushed her way forward. “Did you say Yanna?”

Miss Yanna blinked. “I-I- yes, I-”

“Keelah, and I thought you two were kidding.” The marine trotted over to the tiny quarian and offered a hand. “Heya, Siri'Yanna, I'm Lila'Yaana. Your, uh, cousin or so, I guess. How old are you?”

“I'm- what?”

Yaana heaved a heavy, exaggerated sigh. “How _old_ are you?”

Miss Yanna stuttered for a moment, then managed to squeak out, “S-seventeen?”

“Oh, neat.” Yaana beamed. “I'm eighteen. Guess that really does make us cousins.”

“I don't-”

“Ah, don't worry about it, Siri,” Axilus chirped, clapping a hand down on the tiny quarian's shoulder, startling her badly enough that she jumped like she was about to launch into orbit. “We'll figure it out later. Right now, don't we have a- a weirdo evil death-star that wants us, specifically, as dead as physically possible to stare at or something like that?”

“Yes, we do,” came the reply from across the room, which turned out to have come from another quarian about the same height as Miss Yanna. He rounded one of the dilapidated waist-high stone walls and offered a hand to Son, managing to maintain an impressive presence despite his height, or lack thereof. “Kelon'Raath vas _Moreh._ Just Kelon, though. I'm the engineer in charge of this outing.”

Son nodded, reintroducing himself again as he shook Kelon's hand, then reached for his rifle again. “Where are we headed?”

Kelon nodded to a hooded quarian standing nearby, who fiddled briefly with her omni-tool before displaying a small map of the area. Kelon motioned towards a large building a small distance away. “There's an observatory two and a half klicks that way. If we can get there, we can rig up some of the old equipment to our modern spectrometer, pyranometer, and pyrheliometer to reduce the chances of Dholen frying them.” Then, as an aside, “Damn equipment is expensive enough as it is, the last thing we need is to have to replace the electronics again.”

Son blinked slowly. “So, we need to get to the observatory.”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “I know I'm going to regret asking this, but what, exactly, are we here to do? The briefings weren't exactly forthcoming with information.”

The tech whose omni-tool was currently displaying the map looked up. “Well, to put it simply, the star is acting like it's aging much faster than should be physically possible. The techs who came up with the idea of sending us here were looking at the data from before the geth uprising, and it seems to suggest that it had just begun developing its hydrogen shell, but data from a few _decades_ ago says it's already flashed. There's usually a million years or so between the hydrogen shell and the helium flash, not a century and a half.”

From somewhere to Son's right came a heavy metallic snort. “Someone want to translate that into small words?” Madelivio complained. “I'm stupid and don't speak smart people.”

Miss Yanna coughed. “It used up too much fuel too fast. Like a ship using up its entire fuel reserves just getting to the relay.”

“Oh.” Madelivio paused. “That sucks.”

Kelon snorted and shook his head, muttering something about marines, then motioned for the hooded tech to deactivate the map display. “Anyway, we just need to get to the observatory and record some data from the solar radiation. There shouldn't be any resistance.”

“No signs of geth?”

“None.” The fourth member of the science team shook their head. “I've been monitoring local transmissions for a half an hour now. So far as I can tell, there's no geth here, at least not in the immediate area. We _should_ be able to get in and out without a problem, if our luck holds.”

Madelivio snorted again and elbowed Haasn, whispering something too low for Son to overhear. Haasn glared at Madelivio and kicked him in the shin in response.

Son rolled his eyes, hefting his rifle. “All right then, we should get moving. The quicker we get there, the quicker we can get out before the geth have a chance to notice us.” He motioned the other marines clustered behind him towards the nearby door, its holo-lock casting a red glow across the darkened half of the room, then nodded to Miss Yanna. “Would you mind getting the door?”

Miss Yanna flushed beneath her visor and hurried over to the door, barely having to bend to access the terminal at its side.

When the door slid open, Son turned to the other marines. “Guns out and ready. We shouldn't see any combat, but just in case, make sure your shields are on and up.” He paused, watching a couple shields flicker to life, then continued. “Stick to cover, and follow my lead. Those of you in back, cover our rear and flanks. Keep your eyes on the skies. If anyone sees _anything_ unusual, comm me immediately. Clear?”

A chorus of murmurs rose from the cluster of quarians-plus-a-turian. Son heaved a sigh and repeated, louder, “Are we clear?”

This time a more satisfactory “Yes, sir!” resounded from the group, and he sighed again and nodded. “Remember, stick to cover.” Then he turned to address the science team. “Try to stay near the middle of the group, and keep your heads down if things get ugly.” Without waiting for a response, he then turned to the door, raising his rifle to his shoulder. “After me.”

The door led to a small corridor, awash with dull red light which set the pale tan stone aglow. If it hadn't been for their situation, Son might have found himself in awe of the beautiful architecture which spanned above and below him, might have wanted to stop and take a few pictures for Lia. She'd always been a photography sort, and this seemed right up her alley. Genuine quarian architecture which had withstood the ages and the uprising, walls of stone still standing tall after so long and so much. Sure, it was marred here and there with crumbled masonry, broken stone pillars, malfunctioning doors, scattered refuse, and so much else, but there was still something charming about it.

Also eerie, but that was probably better attributed to his own paranoia than the architecture itself.

After a few minutes of walking- well, more creeping along than walking, really- they came across a long, exposed bridge and paused just at the edge of the shade they currently stood in.

Son glanced back at the marines milling about and chatting behind him, then towards the bridge again.

Staying exposed to the sun for as long as it took to cross the bridge, even at a sustained sprint, which he knew the majority of the others stood less than a ten-percent chance of maintaining, would likely completely deplete even his own shields, and that would only be at a little more than halfway across, leaving them completely exposed for the final stretch. He wasn't a doctor, by any means, but even to him it was obvious that being exposed to the sun for such a length of time would be more than enough to cause some _serious_ damage. If it didn't cause severe burns, which it almost certainly would, it would at least fry some of the tech in the envirosuits, which, on a planet like Haestrom, would be a death sentence.

On the other hand, there didn't look to be any alternatives at first glance. Son chewed at the inside of his cheek, mindful of exactly how sharp his teeth were, as he scanned their surroundings.

To their left was a sheer drop- the edge of the compound, it seemed, which aligned with a small cliff dropping a little more than Son was comfortable looking at for too long. Ahead was, obviously, the bridge. To the left, however…

He squinted, decreasing his visor's polarization so he could see a bit more clearly. Was that…?

It was. With a smile, Son boosted his visor's polarization again so the sun wouldn't blind him and turned back to the group. “This way,” he called, jerking his head to the side. “I see a side passage. We can get by without roasting.”

The side passage was less a passage and more a shortcut, really. A wall had crumbled, whether from age or damage he didn't know, and revealed a dark room beyond. A quick glance across the bridge had told him that there was a door across the way, and after some mental mapping he'd figured that the room behind the crumbled wall _probably_ would let out near that door, if not _through_ that door. Hopefully. If not, well, they had two biotics. They could make their own way.

Or, well, that _was_ the plan.

In actuality, once they got over to where the wall had crumbled, Madelivio stood and stared at the hole, then looked back up to Son with a sharp snort. “No way my cowl's fitting through there.”

Son blinked at him, then the hole, taking a moment to realize that yeah, Madelivio's cowl was definitely too wide in all directions to fit through, especially with the added bulk from his standard-issue heavy armor. Well, this hadn't been part of the plan. Not at all. “Oh, _tha'ji_.” He raised a hand to run along the side of his helmet, sighing. “Well, we could look for another way-”

From somewhere to his side came a harsh metallic snort, and Son turned his head just in time to see Madelivio seemingly take flight, headed for the bridge.

He yelped, a strangled noise that caught in his chest, and belatedly reached a hand out to stop him. “Hey, wait-!”

And then he just stood and stared as Madelivio cleared the bridge approximately twice as fast as he'd expected, skidding to a stop at the other side and dusting himself off with a cocky grin visible in his posture. Son's radio crackled for a moment, filled with static, then cleared just in time for the turian's voice to come through, tinny and somewhat spotty from the radiation interference, and smugly say, “I'm faster than I look.”

Yaana cupped her hands around her speaker and shouted across the divide, _“Showoff!”_

Son just shook his head. “None of you try that,” he grumbled, turning back to the hole in the wall. “ _We_ go _around_. No use in taking unnecessary risks.”

Thankfully, the rest of the marines followed him without complaint, squeezing through the hole in the wall with relative ease. Distantly, as he watched one of the other recruits, the one that was almost as tall and broad as the turian, struggle to squeeze through the hole, he found himself thanking the ancestors for their species's natural flexibility. If not for it, he might have worried that the kid would get stuck halfway through.

Once everyone had come through and reoriented themselves, he straightened his back, adjusting his grip on the rifle in his hands. “Does everyone have an IR mode on their visor?”

He heard some mumbling, then a vaguely annoyed voice came from somewhere to his left. “We're scientists, not marines.”

Suppressing a sigh, Son shook his head and instead clicked on the flashlight on the end of his rifle. The others in the room gave a start at the sudden light, then the other marines followed his lead, switching on flashlights of their own. “Then this will have to do. Come on, and stay close.”

The place was almost disturbingly still and deathly silent, the footfalls of the science crew and their escorts the only sounds in the complex. Son couldn't help but hold his breath each time they came across a new room or a branch in the path, carefully shining his flashlight down each and listening carefully for any telltale signs of geth.

At one point, one of the techs lit their omni-tool up and started a scan of the complex, waving their hand across the doorway of one of the many dark rooms. “I don't know if it's the walls or the star, but something's blocking me,” they whispered over the comm, even though they'd shut off their external speakers and thus really didn't have to worry about being overheard if there _was_ something nearby. It was the principle of the thing, and the atmosphere of the place. “I can't get a good read on anything.”

“We should get out of here,” came another whisper from a different source, followed by murmurs of assent from the rest of the group.

Son took a slow, shaky breath, nodding. “I think we're almost there.”

The sigh of relief from the group when they finally came across a door, its holo-lock casting a blinding orange glow across the hallway, was felt more than it was heard as tension flooded from everyone's posture, a couple marines slumping against the wall while one of the techs moved to unlock the door.

Reeto'Tarth, the fourth member of the science team, waved a hand over the lock, watching data scroll across his omni-tool and tapping periodically until the lock flashed green. Then he retreated back behind the marines again, Son taking his place.

Son hefted his rifle to ready, motioning for the other marines to do the same. “Be prepared,” he whispered over the comm, waiting for everyone to raise their own guns before he hit the lock.

Dholen's light came streaming in, and he ducked back into safety before it could fry anything. What he wouldn't give for Han'Gerrel's HUD scanners right about now… Of course, those were perfectly calibrated for a scratched and warped cornea, so they'd probably be mostly useless to him, anyway. “Alright,” he said quietly, “does anybody have anything we can send out to scan the area for us? I'd really rather not risk suit tech unless absolutely necessary.”

One of the scientists- the little one, Miss Yanna- raised a hand. “I have a drone program,” she offered. “I don't know if its shields will hold, though...”

“We only need it to last long enough to tell us where to go,” he assured her. “Once we get to shade, we can figure out where to go from there.”

Miss Yanna nodded and brought up her omni-tool, fiddling with it until a small white drone spawned. “Okay, uh… Droney,” she stammered, keying in commands. “Go on.”

Over the comm, there was a metallic rattling coupled with a snort. “Droney?” Madelivio asked.

“Yes, Droney!” Miss Yanna said as the drone went out the door, a faint blush visible through her visor. “Do you have any better ideas?”

“Not really, no.”

“Then shoosh!”

The rest of the squad snickered, and Son rolled his eyes. “Get along, please.”

“We do!” Madelivio trilled. “This is how we show it.”

Son grumbled, but fell silent, waiting for the drone to finish its work. After a couple minutes, he heard a series of beeps, and Miss Yanna started scrolling through her omni-tool. “There's a big shadow from a column to our right. About… I'm not sure, I have to adjust the scalar measurement tools on the scanners, but it's not _that_ far.”

Son nodded. “I'll take what I can get. Travel in groups of two or three, wait for the group ahead of you to get to cover before you start out. The fewer people we have exposed to Dholen's rays at once, the better. Kelon, with me.”

Thankfully, the quarians were better at following directions than Madelivio, and everyone made it to the column's shadow without incident. Once the group had reassembled, Madelivio came loping over from where he'd been lounging amongst some rubble, mandibles clattering against the inside of his helmet over the comm. “Took you guys long enough. I'm not getting any extranet connection on my omni-tool, and some asshole decided none of the games I like to play should function if they need an update.”

Haasn snorted. “Oh, boo-hoo, you big baby.”

Madelivio looked at him for a long moment, then simply said, “ _Galaxy of Fantasy_ doesn't work, either.”

“Wait, _what?”_ Haasn immediately pulled up his omni-tool, frantically scrolling through the apps. “Damn it!”

Son rolled his eyes harder than he'd known he could. “Knock it off, you two. Madelivio, did you see anything while you were waiting?”

Madelivio shook his head. “Not even a shadow.” He paused, then added, “Not one that moved, anyway.”

“Good. Then we're still in the clear.” He looked around, hopping up on top of a pile of rubble to get a better view. There was what looked to be a fallen overhang in front of them, huge, craggy rocks lying across the… courtyard, probably, he'd guess. He consulted the map on his HUD, then sighed to himself. Of _course_ they had to get past the giant, insurmountable pile of rocks. “Come on, this way.”

He led the way further through the shadow, getting closer to the column in the hopes there'd eventually be a path through the rubble. Which, eventually, there was.

Except it was almost entirely in the sun.

Damn.

There was one more column casting a shadow along their path, but otherwise, they'd have to make a run for it, going around the rubble to the door his data said there should be. “Alright,” he said, turning back to the squad, “We're going to have to run again. Once you turn the corner, it's a straight shot to a door into a building. The records from Special Projects say it should be locked, so the first team through will need to unlock the door for everyone following.”

Madelivio grunted. “I can take Siri and run. She's tiny, won't slow me down a bit. And I can cover her, too. I'm big enough my shadow should keep her safe.”

Son considered, then looked at Miss Yanna. “Is that alright with you?”

She nodded quickly. “Yes, I think I can manage.”

“Good. Then get going, we don't have all day.”

Madelivio needed no further encouragement, picking up Miss Yanna with one arm and taking off at a dead sprint and flying over any bits of debris in his way.

They rounded the corner and were gone, and Son nodded towards the others. “Right, the rest of you, pair up and get ready to move. Once Miss Yanna says the door is open, run as fast as you can. Go once the team ahead of you rounds the corner, got it?”

There was a chorus of affirmatives, and Son turned back to the path, bracing himself.

It was a tense couple of minutes, then Miss Yanna almost shouted over the comm, “We're through, the door's unlocked!”

He was pretty sure he came close to tearing Kelon's arm out of its socket with how fast he bolted, sprinting ahead towards the corner at full tilt. And, if he was honest, it did kind of feel like Kelon was just ragdolling behind him and hanging on for dear life. Oops.

Thankfully, the door wasn't that far from the corner, just maybe a thirty-second sprint. The entryway had some shade, and one of the earlier two had put a rock in the door to keep it from auto-closing behind them. Once he was inside, he took a few seconds to catch his breath, then moved aside to make room for the next team to come through.

Kelon, on the other hand, practically liquified, gasping for air. “Keelah se'lai, man, how do you _do_ that?”

Son blinked, then shrugged. “Practice.”

Madelivio snickered from the other side of the room, then motioned him over. “Here, you can see the observatory from the door. It's shaded, _sollisyk nulken_.”

Son trotted over, and Madelivio gestured out the next doorway. “Looks like we follow this balcony- gonna have to crouch or crawl, depending on your fancy- over to the carved-out area over there, and then we just walk right up and knock.”

Son breathed a sigh of relief. “Keelah, excellent. Good work, Madelivio.”

Madelivio made a thrumming noise that he supposed would have meant more to him if he were a turian, and Son turned around to the sound of hysterical laughter. “Keelah se'lai, that was the best thing I've ever seen!” Lila'Yaana was cackling. “Jus' like, _poof_ , where'd he go?”

Nahza, her running partner, snickered. “Who needs relays when ya got Son'Todor vas _Nyoom_? He a'ready done mastered the art'a tellyportation.”

Son felt his face heat up slightly and waved a hand. “Settle down, settle down.” He nudged Kelon, who was still lying facedown on the floor. “Are you okay?”

“No,” the scientist weakly replied.

“Keelah se'lai, I'm sorry about that,” Son said, offering a hand to help him up. “Didn't mean to, really.”

Once Kelon had (mostly) recovered and the rest of the group had arrived, most of them giggling or otherwise enthusing about Son's cartoonish exit, he coughed and motioned for them to listen up. “All right, the rest of the way should be easy. We have to crouch to stay in cover to the observatory entrance, but it's better than running. Take it at your own pace, but don't be too slow, we still want to make it out of here before anything finds us, got it?”

Another chorus of affirmatives, and he led the way out of the room, trying to bite back a laugh as Madelivio had to army-crawl through cover due to his cowl sticking out when he crouched. Turian army-crawling was more funny-looking than he supposed it probably should be.

Thankfully, Madelivio was right and the area before the door to the observatory was fully shaded, allowing them all to stand and stretch before the crawling got to be too annoying. Digitigrade legs were great for a lot of things, but crawling, especially for extended periods of time while fully armored and armed, was definitely not among them.

After another quiet moment of hacking, the observatory door slid open and the science techs moved to head inside, already chattering amongst themselves about the tasks ahead of them. Just before the door slid shut again, Miss Yanna thought to call back that the marines might want to make themselves comfortable, seeing as the tools would take at least a few hours to obtain useable readings, and then the marines were left to their own devices for as long as it was going to take.

So, naturally, everyone wound up playing poker.

“Damn it!” hissed Zorah, flinging their holo-cards down. “How do you all keep _doing_ that?”

“Doing what?” Madelivio casually inquired, flicking out a mandible.

“Having better cards than me! Share your secrets, you _div'ha!”_

Son tutted, exaggeratedly wagging a finger in Zorah's direction. “Language, Zorah. There are children present,” he said with a pointed look and wicked smile towards Tavvi, the youngest recruit. Tavvi predictably sputtered and started defending her age, causing the other members of the squashed circle of marines to burst into laughter.

Madelivio just shrugged, trilling some subvocal noise that Son could have sworn sounded amused, and nodded towards Thie. “Hey, Zorah, think of it this way. You're still doing better than Thie over here was back home.” Then, when Haasn made a definitely-offended noise, he happily chirped, “You owe me, like, a billion credits, dude. Or like, six beers.”

“Make that five beers and a decent biotics demonstration from both you and Haasn and I'll let your three-thousand-credit debt to me slide,” Son smoothly replied, laying down his hand. “Boom.”

“Asshole.”

Haasn huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back with a very obvious scowl in his posture as everyone started complaining and placing new bets. Having folded from the game several matches ago when it became apparent that he _still_ had an awful poker face, he hadn't had much to do since then but watch. _Galaxy of Fantasy_ servers couldn't make it through Dholen's radiation, after all, or he'd be practicing his raid strategies, as he'd grouchily informed everyone a few minutes ago when they'd offered to deal him back in.

Having seemingly lost interest in the game, Son watched Haasn's head drift to the side, boredly studying the horizon. Then his body went rigid.

Before he had a chance to ask what was wrong, Haasn had leaped to his feet and flung out his arms, conjuring up a biotic barrier around the cluster of marines just seconds before a rocket detonated at its perimeter.

Son leaped to his feet even before the ringing in his ears had subsided, jerking the battered rifle from its place on his back on his way up. “We've got hostiles! Get to cover!”

Everyone scattered, dropping holo-cards and scrambling for their guns as they dove for cover behind whatever they could find. Madelivio slapped his helmet back on and dashed to Haasn's side, the beginnings of a biotic aura crackling across his plates. “Geth, across the courtyard!” he barked, and then he nodded to Haasn. “Good eye.”

Haasn's arms were shaking, a faint biotic aura flickering in odd intervals across his body, but the barrier held strong, even as a spray of plasma splashed across before Son's eyes. Over the comm, he could hear Haasn panting. “Haasn, get to cover! We'll take it from here!”

Haasn shook his head, a sharp, jerky motion. “No,” he hissed, “I _need_ to do this.”

Madelivio made a concerned noise, but turned to Son and shook his head. “He'll be okay, I'll make sure of it. We'll cover the observatory.”

Son blinked at the pair of biotics, looking from Madelivio to Haasn and back again, then slowly nodded. “All right.” Then he turned to the other marines, whistling sharply to get their attention. “Concentrate fire on the ones with the rockets; they're the biggest threat, so we've got to take them out first. Understood?” He waited for the chorus of frightened assenting noises, then continued, “But don't take risks. Stay to cover, wait for your shields to recharge, and watch for snipers.”

Without waiting for a response, he then rose from cover, flinching as plasma splashed across his shields, and fired a spray, ducking back behind cover without bothering to see if the shots connected. “Oh, _k_ _eelah,”_ he whispered, feeling the color drain from his face as he watched his HUD's shield meter flash. A few seconds of exposure had nearly drained his shields completely. “Be careful,” he called over comm once he felt he'd be able to speak evenly again, “the geth weapons are hell on shields!”

He heard a grunt and hiss over comms, followed by a gruff, “Noticed that, sir,” from Seyya, whom his HUD quickly flagged as wounded.

“Took a hit to the hand,” Jorah explained when Seyya didn't continue on. “He'll be okay. Uh, I think.”

“You _think_ ,” Son grumbled, shaking his head as he switched to the science team's comm. “We've got geth outside! How long?”

The comm crackled for a moment. “At least another twenty minutes,” came the response from one of the other two techs that Son couldn't remember the names of. “We're translating the data now.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well translate it faster! We've got to go!”

“We're translating as fast as we can!”

Son groaned and switched back to the squad comm, fiddling with his omni-tool momentarily before rising from cover again and hurling a grenade across the courtyard, calling out, “Grenade out!” seconds before it detonated in a storm of fire. At least one geth that he could see went flying, crumpling to the ground where it landed and remaining blissfully still.

The two sides traded fire for another few tense minutes, geth platform after platform toppling over only to be replaced by two more a few seconds later. Thankfully, Seyya remained the only injury, and even he kept in the fight, filling the wound on his hand with an experimental biofoam they'd been asked to field-test a few weeks ago. It seemed to work spectacularly well, considering he wasn't passing out or writhing in pain anymore.

At one point, Son's rifle overheated, forcing him to duck back behind cover and frantically fan at the venting heat sink while cursing a mile a minute at his luck. When he leaned back out to continue firing, he got maybe three shots off before something slammed into his back with the force of a rampaging krogan, sending him down hard. His visor met the ground with an awful _crack_ , knocking him senseless for a moment, and then the shooting suddenly seemed to get a lot louder. Then something splashed him which chilled him to the bone and someone grabbed his shoulder, yanking him up and back into cover.

His ears were ringing, making it difficult to make out what Madelivio was saying. Then his vision blurred and cleared back up as his suit auto-injected painkillers and applied medi-gel to the abrasion on his head, his HUD happily informing him that he had a concussion before returning to its scheduled shrieking, and he realized what Madelivio was yelling about.

“Oh, _keelah_ ,” Son whispered, nearly staring crosseyed at the hairline crack running down the middle of his visor.

Madelivio waved a hand in front of his face, omni-tool blazing to life, and lightly coated the crack with omni-gel, which seemed to appease Son's screaming HUD enough to make it stop yelling, then repeated, “Commander, can you hear me?”

Son managed a nod, reaching a shaky hand up to trace the now-hardened omni-gel lining the crack, and Madelivio breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Thank the spirits. The scientists are done, the geth have retreated for now, we have to go!”

“Oh, keelah se'lai,” Son breathed, moving to stand once he felt his legs could hold his weight. “Any other casualties? Sound off!”

One by one, each of the marines sounded off, and Son mentally ran through his checklist before sighing in relief. Good, everyone was alive and unharmed. Then he glanced back to the bridge. “We've got to hurry, before they come back.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Madelivio,” he interrupted, “grab Miss Yanna and Kelon, please.”

The turian stopped abruptly and made a vaguely confused noise. “Why?”

“Just do it.”

He waited for the rustling and vaguely offended noises from Kelon that told him Madelivio had obeyed, then simply said, “Run.”

The turian didn't even take prompting.

Then Son turned to the others of the group, who were watching Madelivio grow steadily smaller in awe. “Run as fast as you can. Use stims if you have to, but _don't stop running.”_

“What?”

He nodded towards the horizon, which was steadily growing redder as the seconds ticked by. “The sun is going down; that means the radiation will be easier on your shields, which is convenient because we don't have time to go around. The geth will be back with reinforcements any second now. We need to go." He paused, glancing back and forth between everyone to make sure they understood, then said, "Just _run.”_

Then, without waiting for a response, he turned and took off.

It felt good to sprint at full tilt again, his breathing quickly falling into the steady pattern he'd taught himself over the years, legs coming down quick and hard and pushing him to his absolute limit as he streaked across the bridge, barely losing momentum as he leaped over fallen pillars and across piles of rubble, hardly feeling the sun's burn through the adrenaline pumping in his veins.

He didn't stop running until he came to the shuttle, skidding to a stop and doubling over for only a moment to catch his breath. When he raised his head again, Madelivio was staring.

“How the fuck?” came the turian's bewildered response, and Son just shrugged.

“Practice.”

Behind him, he heard the shuttle pilot give a long-suffering sigh as the other recruits started slowly trickling in. _"Marines."_

* * *

 

 **TO:** Dr. Aela'Den vas _Tonbay_

 **FROM:** Dr. Nalin'Yanti vas _Nuok_

 **SUBJECT:** Thie'Haasn vas _Tonbay_

As Thie'Haasn's primary doctor, you should know that Haasn has been experiencing frequent headaches. Following his recent deployment to Haestrom, he suffered a particularly debilitating one. It took an hour to get him lucid again when they brought him in. I've prescribed painkillers, but ancestors know if he'll actually take them. Marines are stubborn, you know?

* * *

**TO:** 0-000-135537

 **FROM:** 3-3T2-8448698

 **SUBJECT:** 0-P01-7-6341Q

Attached is the mission report promised earlier. Excursion into geth space unprecedented; recommend caution and closer monitoring of Fleet activities due to potential conflict.

0-P01-7-6341Q's biotic abilities have resurfaced and are holding strong. Further observation is needed to determine strength and consequences of reimplantation, but results show promise. However, as noted previously, migraine headaches are continuing to occur, and appear to increase in strength proportionally to biotics used. Recommend research into lessening headache strength without nullifying implant's effects.


	6. The Next Chapter in Han'Gerrel's Eternal War on Walls and the Integrity of His Knuckles, and Also His Father

They'd barely been back for an hour before Han'Gerrel tracked them down in the medbay.

Thie heard him before he saw him, the formerly-quiet cluster of medics milling about suddenly growing very annoyed with the admiral as he pushed his way through the crowd, a positively shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “Sonny Boy!” he called, leisurely trotting his way over to the cot where Todor sat surrounded by medics. Xala followed shortly after him, quietly apologizing on his husband's behalf as he passed. _“M_ _arat pa'viraakh_ , _sa_ _'_ _yi!_ When I said I was hoping you'd get to fight geth, I didn't think you'd take me _seriously!”_

Thie grimaced at his volume. Suddenly he was glad he'd folded and taken the painkillers the  _Nuok's_ doctor had prescribed him, or else Gerrel's talking would likely have been enough to make the migraine go from near-unbearable to flat out excruciating. As it was, his temples still throbbed painfully with each word out of the officer's mouth, but the painkillers had done their work as far as they could, which was all he could ask.

He did still put his head in his hands, visor dimming and audio half-muting to try and make it hurt less.

From the cot, Todor heaved his characteristic heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I _didn't,”_ he grumbled, sounding somehow even more exhausted than he looked, which Thie considered an achievement. “The geth came out of nowhere. Believe me, I didn't _want_ to fight them.”

Gerrel just cackled, dragging a chair over and flopping down unceremoniously into it, backwards so he could prop his elbows up on the back. “How the fuck did you manage to crack a military-grade visor, is what _I_ want to know. Sure wasn't a grenade, or you'd look a lot more like I did.”

“Which is to say, awful,” Xala teased as he moved to sit down, patting Gerrel's head. “I'm glad you're alright, Son'Todor.” He paused, then hastily amended, “For the most part, anyway.”

“Yes, yes, good thing Sonny Boy's still alive, we're all very happy we don't have a Son'Todor-shaped hole in the roster to fill, that's all well and good, what _happened_ down there?” Gerrel demanded.

Xala groaned. “Han, we've been over this already.”

“We have? When?”

“On the way over here. You can't tell me you forgot _already?”_

“Hm, let me think.” Gerrel put his chin in one hand. “Let's see. Did the manic ADHD guy with no working memory to speak of forget something told to him not five minutes ago? Damn, Xala, that's _hard.”_

“Han, there's no need to be sarcastic.”

“There's _always_ a need to be sarcastic, Xala.”

Xala rolled his eyes. “Fine. For the benefit of your bad memory.”

“All I'm asking for, really.”

Xala sighed and rubbed his temples. “Son, would you mind?”

Todor sighed. “Haestrom's sun is horrible, it was really hot, Madelivio hates following orders, and I got tackled by a geth.”

Gerrel raised an eyebrow. “You what now?”

"Tackled." Todor slowly put his face in his hands. "By a geth. It sat on me. And cracked my visor.”

“By sitting on you.”

“ _No._ When it tackled me. I hit my head _really_ hard.” Todor rubbed at his head and winced. "Still hurts."

Xala made a vague sound. “Well, that explains the concussion.”

“And he can run really fast,” Axilus piped up.

“I _know,_ right?” Gerrel asked excitedly. “Did he just-” He made a motion with his hands starting with a clap and sliding one hand out in front of the other just as they made contact. “- and gone for you, too?”

Axilus bobbed his head. “I've only seen turians move like that, and just in the final stretch before a kill on a pack-hunt!”

Gerrel clapped a hand on Todor's leg with a laugh. “Only quarian on the Fleet who can go from zero to gone in nothing flat!”

Todor groaned. “You could, too, if you would just _train...”_

“Nah, I have more important things to do." Gerrel jerked his head to the side with a grin. "Like Xala.”

Xala flushed so hard Thie could see the outline of half his facial features through his visor and knocked his shoulder against Gerrel's, almost knocking him out of his seat. “Han, _please,_ not in public,” he hissed.

Gerrel just cackled. “Relax, pretty boy, just joking. Anyway, what about the data you were supposed to get?”

Todor puffed out a sigh that sounded distinctly relieved at the change of subject. “The scientists managed to get it before we had to clear out. We sent it to Special Projects during the shuttle ride back.”

Xala nodded. “I got a message from them saying they got the data. They're still processing, but they said they'll want to send another team in in a decade or so to check in and compare readings, see if anything has changed at all. From what I understand, if future results are too different from the ones we got on this mission...” He made a definitely negative sound.

“How different is 'too' different?” Axilus asked, and Xala shook his head.

“At all different. Stars age over billions of years, not a decade. If there's any discernible change, well...”

Gerrel nodded sharply. “Rael thinks it's either the geth up to something, instrument malfunction, or something we'd have to let the Council know about. Interest of galactic safety, and all that. Either way, won't be sure for a decade or so. Hopefully it won't be too late by then.”

Todor shook his head and grumbled, “Well, don't look at _me_ for the next time. If I never set foot on that stupid planet again, it'll be too soon.” He was quiet for a bit, fiddling absently with the thermal pack taped to the side of his head, then apparently thought of something and gave Gerrel an odd look. “Why are you here, anyway? Usually you debrief over comms.”

Gerrel shrugged and leaned back in his seat, folding his hands behind his head. “Board has a meeting on the _Tonbay_ later, and that doctor- whatsername, Alla'Dan? Lala'Din? Whatever- she wants to see Haasn again. Figured we'd swing by and kill two geth with one shot." He paused, then chuckled and added, "Uh, no pun intended.”

Xala rolled his eyes. “Her name is Aela'Den, Han,” he gently reminded him. “And-”

He was interrupted by a commotion at the other end of the medbay, and the little group turned to look.

Well, most of the little group.

Gerrel turned his head back when Todor gave a low groan and buried his face in his hands, raising an eyebrow. “Uh, you alright there, Sonny Boy? Should I get a medic-?”

“It's Lia,” Todor moaned into his hands.

“What?”

“It's Lia... _das_ , she's going to _kill_ me...”

Gerrel blinked slowly at him. “How can you tell?”

Todor opened his mouth to respond, then snapped it closed and buried his face back in his hands when instead, a familiar voice screamed, _“SON'TODOR VAS_ NUOK _, WHAT THE_ HELL _WERE YOU DOING!?”_ from across the room.

Instead, he just whined quietly and whispered, “That's how.”

Lia came storming through the crowd of medics, positively fuming. “I told you to be careful, Son! I fucking _told_ you- _SIT THE FUCK BACK DOWN, HAN'GERREL VAS_ NEEMA.”

Thie flinched at her volume, hands instinctively moving to cover his ears despite the helmet, and Gerrel flung his hands up defensively. “I had nothing to do with this!”

“You're the one who sent him down there!” she seethed, marching closer and jabbing a finger into Gerrel's chest hard enough to make him flinch back. Then she whirled on Todor and- surprisingly gently for being as powerful as she clearly was- slapped the back of his head with an open palm. Thie found himself somewhat surprised Todor's head was still attached and had to briefly lecture himself on how physics actually worked in everything that wasn't movies or video games. “I _told_ you, Son! I told you to be _careful,_ and instead you go down there and you fight geth and you crack your fucking mask?! _That is not careful!”_

Todor whined quietly, curling in on himself. “I said I'm sorry!”

Lia made a noise that strongly reminded Thie of Sephira in the early mornings, a low, gutteral growl that sounded horribly out-of-place coming from a quarian such as herself, and crossed her arms. “Now you're going to be sick, and you don't get to hold Kael until you're healthy again. Good _fucking_ job.”

“ _Lia!”_

“Don't you 'Lia' me, Son'Todor! You could have _died!”_

Xala coughed awkwardly, nearly suppressing the flinch when Lia rounded on him. “They repaired the crack before too much contaminated air could seep in, and he's had antibiotics administered. As far as the conflict with the geth...” He squirmed uncomfortably. “... I'll take the blame for that. I ran intel on the mission, I should have anticipated geth response, and I-”

He broke off with a yelp as Lia darted over and shoved him out of his chair. Gerrel made a surprised noise, leaping out of his own chair and rushing to help Xala back up as she growled, “Well, do better next time! I will _not_ be a widow!”

Todor made an alarmed sort of noise, reaching out to grab Lia's arm. “Lia, Lia, please calm down, I- where's Kael?”

Lia exhaled sharply, seemed to take a moment to ground herself, and folded her arms again. “With Elani, back at her cubicle. I didn't want him to get upset about Daddy being hurt.” Then she turned her head to glare at the two superior officers sitting at the bedside, both of whom had reclaimed their chairs by then. “What the hell are you two even doing here? Usually you debrief over comms, not in the medbay.”

Gerrel huffed at her. “We were literally just explaining that when you came barging in and interrupted us, _pira.”_

“Then do explain again, you _shoda_.”

“What is with you people and calling me a _shoda?”_

Xala patted Gerrel's shoulder. “Han has a board meeting to get to on the _Tonbay_ here in a little while, and Aela'Den asked us to bring Thie'Haasn with us when we headed over so she could screen him again. So we decided to hit two geth with one shot and debrief Son while we were at it.”

“That so?” Thie flinched back when Lia's razor-sharp stare found its way to him. She watched him for a moment, then abruptly asked, “You're Thie, right? Kid, how long's it been since you took a shower?”

Thie paused to think, then blinked slowly. Honestly, he couldn't remember, and the pounding headache wasn't helping.

Taking his silence as an answer, Lia snorted and shifted one hand to her hip. “That long, huh?”

Thie felt his face flush as Gerrel chuckled and Axilus made a disbelieving noise, muttering, “And I had _sex_ with you? _Bro...”_ , and Lia just shook her head.

“Go take a shower. Xala, would you mind showing him the way? I need to have a chat with these two.” She stared at Gerrel and Todor in turn, then nodded to Xala. “I mean, you know the way, right?”

Xala heaved a sigh and went to stand. “Fair enough. Do be gentle on them, though. Son _does_ have a concussion to deal with.”

Lia just grinned wickedly. “No promises,” she chirped, and Thie heard Todor groan and thump his face into his hands again as he went to stand.

He could have sworn he heard Axilus ask, “Can I tape this?” just before the door swished shut.

* * *

The way quarian suits worked, it wasn't actually _necessary_ to take regular showers, just recommended.

The suits had regular decontamination protocols programmed in from the moment a quarian obtained their first permanent suit, set to seal off each individual section of the suit at a time, run a rinse using a mix of hydrogen peroxide, isopropyl alcohol, a small amount of ethyl alcohol, and various extracts that could be customized by the suit-owner for scent, flush it with water which was then automatically siphoned out and cleaned for use on the next section, then apply a sanitizer to kill any remaining contaminants before moving on. It was convenient, as it meant a quarian could feasibly live in their suit for years on end without a problem so long as they kept the cleaning solvents properly stocked. The only part of them that it didn't clean?

Their hair, Thie grudgingly thought to himself as he twirled a lock of his around his finger. It had been so long since he'd properly cleaned his hair that it had been reduced to a stringy, oily mess that hung flush against his skull once he'd pulled the hairtie out. There was a reason most quarians thought it easier to just shave their heads than to grow their hair out, after all, and that reason was eliminating the need to take a shower at least monthly to keep their hair clean.

Running a hand along the side of his head, Thie also noted that he needed to shave down the sides again, and made a mental note to ask one of the others for help with it later on.

It took him longer than last time to get out of his endosuit, mostly because this time, he was doing it alone. Being in the suits generated a lot of heat, and the bathroom was comparatively a _lot_ colder than it was inside the suits, so Thie quickly found himself starting to shiver.

Thankfully, the water was very, very warm.

Thie sighed and closed his eyes, tipping his head back against the spray. He'd forgotten how good it felt to just stand beneath the water and relax. Even the headache slowly seemed to ebb away, even though he knew he was probably just imagining it. It took him a rather long while to conjure up the energy to reach for the shampoo, perfectly content to just stand there and bask in the warmth and comfort the water brought, and longer to decide to just fuck it and wash his hair already.

By the time he stepped out of the shower stall, reaching for the towel Xala had handed him on the way in, at least an hour had passed, and he found himself much less surprised than he'd expected to see Axilus sprawled out on the floor, fluttering his mandibles at him.

“Hey, handsome,” Axilus drawled, raising a brow plate suggestively at him. “You come here often?”

Thie snorted and tossed the towel over Axilus's head. “I have sex with you a whole once and now you're hitting on me like I'm Freiya. Nice to see you pushed me up the 'People I Like' chain so fast.”

Axilus laughed, a sharp sound that drew an unwilling smile out of Thie, and pulled the towel off, shaking his head like a wet varren. “Seriously though, you look... _wow_ , man. You clean up _nice.”_ His mandibles quirked up a little. “Literally.”

“Thank you.” Thie took a sweeping bow, then raised his head and glanced around for a moment, reaching up to brush his hair out of his face. “Where did my hairtie go?” He hesitated, then turned to glare at Axilus, who was doing his best Perfect Angel™ imitation. “Ax, did you steal my hairtie?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Axilus innocently responded.

“Uh-huh. Then take your hands out from behind your back.”

Axilus's arms tightened against his sides. “Why?”

Thie gave him a long, hard stare. “You totally stole my hairtie.”

“Did not.”

“Did too. Give it back, you ass, I _need_ that.”

“No you don't. Your hair is prettier when it's down, anyway.”

“Axilus.”

“Thie.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Then Thie rolled his eyes and reached for the parts of his endosuit. “If you don't give it back by the time I get to putting my helmet on, I'm gonna punch you in the dick.”

Axilus stuck his tongue out. “Will not.”

“Wanna bet?”

“It's plated, asshole, or did you forget that?” Axilus's mandibles quirked out in a smug grin. “It'll hurt _you_ a hell of a lot more than it'll hurt _me.”_

Thie rolled his eyes and muttered something unsavory about turians in the closed dialect, moving to seal together the sections of his endosuit he'd managed to get on. “Ax, can you help me with the other leg? It's my bad one.”

“Oh, sure.” Axilus climbed to his feet, one hand ghosting past his cowl just long enough for Thie to see him drop his hairtie into it, then trotted over to help.

Before Axilus could raise a hand to deflect him, Thie snatched his hairtie out of his cowl and grinned, reaching up to tie his hair back. _“Ha._ I knew you took it, you gay asshole.”

Axilus just snorted at him, nasal plates rattling, then pushed him, making him lose his balance and topple backwards with a yelp. “Sit down, moron, I can't help you into your endosuit with you standing on the leg you want help with.”

Thie huffed and propped himself up on his elbows. “You didn't have to _push_ me.”

“Nah. But it was funner that way.”

“That's not-”

“I know, Thie.” Axilus's mandibles fluttered gently, an audible rumble rolling through his cowl. “Hold still.”

After his bad leg was re-enclosed and sealed back up, the rest of Thie's suit went on quickly and smoothly as usual, and he found himself with just his helmet left after a moment. Before he could raise it and put it on, however, Axilus thrust out a hand and pushed it back down, and Thie looked up at him quizzically. “What?”

Axilus looked conflicted for a moment, then apparently reached an internal resolution, shrugged, and leaned forward to press his frontal plate to Thie's forehead, mandibles fluttering gently against his temples. Then he leaned back and shrugged again. “Dunno. Felt right.” He paused, then ducked his head and added, “Your hair smells nice.”

Thie stared at him for a moment, then just said, “Gay,”, snickered at Axilus's offended exclamation, and moved to put his helmet on.

* * *

Gerrel and Xala were waiting for them at the shuttle bay, Gerrel's helmet now back on... which didn't exactly keep him from doing his best to embarrass Xala in public, Thie noted, as the two were holding hands and touching visors when he and Axilus arrived. “Sure you don't want to come along?” Gerrel was asking. “You know my father, I could use the support.”

Xala hummed and ran a hand up Gerrel's arm. “You'll be fine. Harras and Raan will both be there, your father won't have room to maneuver.”

“Maybe you don't know him as well as I thought.”

Xala sighed patiently. “You're Admiral of the Heavy Fleet, commander-in-chief of the Migrant Fleet Marines. This is a closed meeting, with no spectators allowed. You'll be _fine._ ”

“Says you.”

Axilus coughed into his fist, and the two superior officers glanced up at them. Xala disentangled himself from Gerrel and cleared his throat, a faint glow visible through his visor. “Right, then. I'm headed back to the _Neema_. You two play nice for the doctor, and Han, try not to start a fight.”

Gerrel snorted. “You don't give me enough credit.”

“No, I know your temper when you're manic. You're deciding who's going to replace Zaemin, don't get mad at Tuzh or Raalun or whoever and muck anything up.”

“It occurs to me that you're more fun when there aren't people watching.” Gerrel rolled his eyes and clapped Xala on the shoulder. “Have fun playing captain, I expect the _Neema_ back in one piece when you're done.”

Xala snorted and shook his head, then drifted off, and Gerrel jerked his head at Axilus and Thie. “Come on, you two, let's get going, then. Less late, the better.”

The shuttle ride was thankfully short, awkward as it was being the only ones in the back while Gerrel rode up front with the pilot. The _Nuok_ was technically a Patrol Fleet vessel, so it flew with the rest of the small pack of scouting vessels in and around the Heavy Fleet. The _Tonbay,_ being the Patrol Fleet's flagship, skulked around the bigger ships of the Heavy Fleet, today trailing the mid-size cruiser _Gaefirn._

They were met in the docking bay by a small party of quarians, only one of whom was familiar to Thie. Shala'Raan was much more slightly-built than her son, small and fragile-looking, especially since she lacked the armor Thie would swear was grafted onto Gerrel's exosuit if he hadn't personally seen him take it off.

Naturally, despite her size, she had no problem with socking Gerrel in the arm the moment he was clear of the shuttle.

“You're late,” she scolded.

Gerrel winced and rubbed at his arm. “Can't be _that_ late,” he protested. “Rael and Tuzh aren't here yet, either.”

“ _They_ called ahead and said they might be late. _You_ , on the other hand...”

The smaller of the two males cleared his throat. “Easy, Shala, he's a marine. No sense of time, you know that.”

“Father-”

Thie shared a look with Axilus as the quarians bickered. _Father?_ As far as Thie knew, Raan was _old_ , somewhere in her late seventies. Her parents should be dead, or if they weren't, not on the _Tonbay_.

Wait.

Scratch that, he knew _exactly_ who this was.

Admiral Ken'Harras vas _Nadiin_ , oldest admiral on the Board, folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. “Look, he got here, didn't he? And he was bringing these kids with him, so obviously that's what was taking up his time.”

The other male snorted. “Typical. Never could manage time worth a damn.”

Gerrel stiffened slightly. “Hello, Father,” he said, and Thie could hear the venom dripping from his voice.

Lovely. They'd walked into a family spat.

Or maybe not. Raan groaned and put herself between Gerrel and his father, hands up. “None of that, you two. Zetosh, he's your son, you don't need to be putting him down all the time. Han...” She sighed. “Aela'Den is waiting in the psychiatric wing, third room in the left hall. Would you mind showing Thie'Haasn and Mr. Madelivio to her?”

“Gladly.”

Gerrel stalked around his mother and the others, giving his father a look that Thie could only describe as murderous. Thie hesitantly followed, trailing after at what he judged to be a safe distance. Could never be too careful when your commanding officer was distinctly reminding you of a turian, he figured.

They'd gotten maybe two corners away when Gerrel suddenly spat out a string of Khelish expletives, mixed in with a few that Thie thought might be krogan. “Uh, sir?” he asked hesitantly. “What was all that about, if you don't mind me asking?”

Gerrel growled low in his throat, but shook his head and snorted. “My _father_ ,” he snarled the word like it was something particularly nasty he'd gotten stuck in his throat, “never approved of me going into the marines. Always said it wasn't a fitting profession for someone of my...” He growled again. “ _State_.”

Thie swallowed. That didn't sound good. “So then I'm guessing he didn't..?”

“Damn right he didn't. Oh, woe is him, having a damn _defective_ kid. Perfectly alright for him to marry a psychologist, sure, but oh, galaxy's coming to an end if his son isn't the _picture_ of _mental health!_ ” he roared, slamming a fist into the wall. “Mum tried to reason with him, bless her, ancestors know she tried. Kept telling him it wasn't my fault I couldn't do what he wanted, mental illness isn't something you can very well control, 'specially at that age. But he never damn well listened, like the...” He launched into another string of expletives, losing Thie somewhere around the third word in.

Then he shook himself, and Thie heard a very much malicious note in his voice as he added, “Joke's on him, though, the _va'tiin bosh'tet_ . I asked my doctor on the _Neema_ to look into family medical history, and turns out it's _his_ side with the genetic predisposition for being less than okay mental-wise.”

Thie flinched somewhat. “I know what you mean.”

Gerrel regarded him for a moment, then gave him a sharp, jerky nod. “Knew I liked you. Come on, psych wing's this way.”

The farther away from Gerrel's father they got, the more Gerrel himself seemed to relax, until his surly stalk had turned back into his usual cheerful trot. The _Tonbay_ was bigger than Thie remembered it being, and he was glad for the guide as they turned more and more corners and walked more and more long halls.

As Raan had said, Aela'Den was waiting for them. “Thie'Haasn, good to see you again,” she greeted, shaking his hand, nodding to Axilus, and bowing slightly to Gerrel. “Thank you, Admiral.” Thie thought he heard a note of amusement as she added, “Have fun at the meeting.”

Thie didn't need to see Gerrel's face to know he was scowling. “Don't,” he grumbled as he left the room.

Aela nodded to herself and closed the door behind him. “Right then, let's get started.”

* * *

 **TO:** FAdm. Han'Gerrel vas _Neema_ , FAdm. Shala'Raan vas _Tonbay_

 **FROM** : Aela'Den vas _Tonbay_

 **SUBJECT** : Psych Eval, Thie'Haasn vas _Tonbay_

As before, enclosed are my full notes and report on Thie'Haasn vas Tonbay's psychological progress. He appears to be recovering somewhat, but this may be a reaction to the change in environment between Pilgrimage and the Marines. Further evaluations will be necessary to determine a true projection of Haasn's mental state and recovery over time.

Discussion with Haasn and Madelivio has also brought to light the possibility of emotional abuse during childhood. However, attempts to determine anything concrete was met with silence from Haasn and lack of further knowledge from Madelivio. I would like to learn more, without letting Haasn know it is being looked into, as it may further distance him or otherwise impede recovery. With permission, I would like to contact his stepmother, Cila'Faazha, and see if she might have any further information on Haasn's life before he left for Pilgrimage.

* * *

 **TO** : Aela'Den vas _Tonbay_

 **FROM** : FAdm. Han'Gerrel vas _Neema_

 **SUBJECT** : Thie'Haasn vas _Tonbay_

Haasn has a brother, too. I'll authorize some leave for him and Cila to go talk. Have fun with that, Del's the quiet type.

* * *

 **TO** : 0-000-135537

 **FROM** : 3-3T2-8448698

 **SUBJECT** : 0-P01-7-6341Q, AA-04

Attached are results of 0-P01-7-6341Q's most recent psychological evaluation. No discernible change; will continue monitoring.

Access to 0-000-3's resources has proven invaluable. Object AA-04 has been linked to a human group that may in turn be linked to I-5-15F2-2.9.11.0. Collaboration with 3-4S3-0-1779R may be necessary to obtain desired results; however, due to the nature of 3-4S3-0-1779R, contact will only be attempted after all other options have been exhausted.

 


	7. And Now for Something Completely Different: The Long-Awaited Sitcom Episode in Which Nothing of Importance Really Happens Unless You Squint and Tilt Your Head a Little

**Galactic Standard Day 5, Week 6, Month 7, Year 2908**

**(Late Terran Year 2168 CE)**

“Hey, Haasn. You alright over there?”

Thie looked up from the datapad he’d been reading. “Huh?”

Ashalla’Shalen, the _Neema_ ’s head communications specialist, was looking across the table at him, concern etched in her face. “You didn’t look too hot. Everything alright?”

Thie blinked, then nodded a little. “Yeah, fine. Just a headache.”

She made a concerned noise. “You’ve been getting a bunch of those. We need to call Den?”

He frowned and shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I don’t need a doctor.”

She eyed him for a moment. “If you say so…”

Then, without warning, she reached over and snatched the datapad out of his hand. “Hey-!”

She ignored him, fiddling with the datapad before handing it back. “Here, try this. Should help.”

He blinked and accepted it, then went back to reading, quickly discovering she’d turned the brightness down so it wasn’t quite so piercing against his eyes. “Oh, thanks.”

“No problem.” She shrugged and went back to her own work. He and a couple handfuls of other marines- medbay residents, like himself, a few pre-Pilgrimage trainees, and some poor unlucky saps who hadn’t made themselves look busy fast enough- were helping her with busywork that had piled up, mostly paperwork and going through comm records for anything that would need to be sent along to Gerrel, Xala, or the second mate, Kalon’Hazir. They’d commandeered what used to be the kitchen counter in the common area, started some coffeepots, found a box of snacks, left their helmets in a pile in the corner, and settled in for the long haul.

He sighed and scrolled through, trying not to think about how Axilus would be having the time of his life down in the combat sims while he was stuck here doing paperwork. He’d taken multiple shots during their last deployment, a little run to clear out some mercs for a small colony that couldn’t muster a suitable force themselves, and medical refused to let him return to active duty (or active _anything_ , really) until he could lift a gun without grumbling about the sore muscles in his arm.

They’d been getting sent on near-constant deployments since Haestrom; the only two biotics in the marines were a hot commodity, and Thie had been surprised by just how often they were needed. Back on the _Olyna_ , a small freighter in the Patrol Fleet, he’d only heard about the marines’ deployments when it was something major. On the _Neema_ , however, there were marines coming and going constantly, a nonstop flow from ship to ship. People were always getting back from a deployment or leaving for a new ship. Thie and Axilus counted themselves lucky that they were only needed for actual ground missions, rather than the scouting missions that were launched at least twice a week but didn’t necessitate boots on the ground.

Admittedly, as much as he enjoyed being needed, the more missions he went on, the more exhausted he’d been, pushing his crummy implant and Special Projects’ amplifier to their limits and needing to be carried on Axilus’ back back to the shuttle half the time. And the more he’d done it, the more headaches he’d gotten, throbbing right at his temples and refusing to go away until he’d downed more headache medication than was probably medically advisable. He frequently had to put his visor on full opacity and turn off audio input to block out all the light and noise that only made the headaches worse. They’d been leaving him alone for the most part since the last deployment, at least, just a minor one here and there.

At least he wasn’t the only sucker stuck in datapad hell, he thought bitterly to himself as he filed one report and reached for the next in the pile. Kal’Reegar, only freshly released from medical’s clutches now that his arm had fully healed, was a couple seats down from him, and two of Lila’s pre-Pilgrimage flock, Shala’Ganu nar _Usela_ and Rena’Kaddi nar _Rayya_ , were around, Shala next to Thie and Rena across the table next to Ashalla.

They’d been at it for several hours, and the only even vaguely interesting thing that had happened had been Gerrel showing up, unarmored, unhelmeted, and only wearing a few sashes over his suit, to take a pot of coffee from its holder, add various things to it while still in the pot, and walk off drinking from the spout. When questions had been raised, Ashalla had merely shrugged. “A coffee pot can also be a coffee mug if you just don’t care enough,” she’d quipped at them.

Thie squinted, trying to make the words on the datapad come into focus. The datapad he’d grabbed was a record of transmissions amongst the Fleet, mostly just alerts and authority figures arranging things. The “FAdm.” abbreviation showed up a lot, attached to subject lines that wouldn’t be important enough to bother a meeting with. Gerrel and Rael went back and forth a lot; as near as Thie could tell, they were bickering over which one of them had won a bet and, consequently, who owed the other money. Raalun, another Special Projects admiral, talked mostly with Rael. Based on the subject lines, Thie was pretty sure they were arguing over some thesis paper and whether or not it was cited properly. Raan mostly only talked to Harras and Gerrel, and Tuzh was practically radio-silent. He was sorely tempted to just mark it all as unimportant and move on, but with Ashalla within arm’s reach, he doubted he could get away with it.

He glanced up as he heard heavier footsteps than most quarians produced, then went back to his datapad as Axilus pulled up a seat next to him. “Have fun in the combat sim?” he asked, trying not to sound too bitter.

Axilus clicked his mandibles. “Some. Hazir came in and said I had some packages from home, so I quit.”

Thie eyed the boxes Axilus was holding in his lap. “Did you open them yet?”

Axilus grinned. “What, without you? Nah.”

With that, he promptly dragged one long talon that looked freshly-sharpened along the top of the first box in the pile. “Okay, so this one’s from Tol… Bet it’s, like, a bunch of shiny rocks or something…”

He pulled the top open, then blinked and pulled out a note. “‘Mom said I had to help, this is what I could afford, there’s a straw at the bottom for Haasn,’” he read off. “Okay, what the..?”

Tollak, as it turned out, had sent a box full of packages of cup noodles, in various flavors that Thie supposed would have sounded more appetizing if he had more experience with the turian culinary world. For whatever reason, Axilus thought this was hilarious, and just laughed harder and harder the more cups of noodles he pulled out of the box, forty-six in all. The four spaces at the bottom that were roughly the right size for more cup noodles instead contained large rocks, which just made Axilus laugh even harder. “I knew it!” he cackled, almost doubled over.

After a moment, he took note of the odd look Thie was giving him, and started packing the noodles back in the box as he explained, “When we were little, we had this gag where we’d just gift-wrap rocks for presents. We'd get really elaborate with it, too, like this one year, I got Grandma Corinn to help me, and we put the rock in a series of progressively bigger boxes with a bunch of tissue paper between all the boxes, and the last box was really big, and Tol was _so_ mad.” He chuckled to himself. “Mom gave me a good hit up the back of my head for it, but it was _so_ worth it to see the look on his face.”

“Your mom _hit_ you?” came a voice from Thie’s left, and he turned to see Shala’Ganu staring at Axilus with wide eyes. Admittedly, _most_ of her was wide- she had a soft, round face, with chubby cheeks and a nose that, while flat to her face, was noticeably wider than average. She was one of the many quarians who subscribed to the “just shave it off, it’s easier” school of thought when it came to hair care; her scalp was covered in a very fine fuzz, similar to Gerrel’s, except her’s was patchy white and black where his was reddish-brown. Her skin was the palest Thie had ever seen on a quarian, but not in a sense that looked like it needed medical attention. Rather, her skin reminded him of Sephira’s plates- unnaturally pale, but in a way that looked like it was simply supposed to be like that, and always had been. The rest of her was short and stocky, like she hadn’t quite lost all her baby fat but was quickly replacing it with pure muscle. If Thie hadn’t thought she would deck him for it, he would have called her cute.

Axilus made a little puffing noise, and Thie looked back at him. His mandibles were down, but they were hanging loose, so he wasn’t angry, just chill. “Yeah. Turians are durable, we can take it. Just a little smack upside the head, though, and only to scold, never discipline. Mom only ever did it to emphasize a lecture. Actual discipline was usually stuff like taking away dessert or extra chores.” He scrunched his nasal plates. “Or _vegetables_.”

“What are you on about?” Thie asked, shaking his head. “Vegetables aren’t that bad.”

Axilus waggled his mandibles, drawing attention to his teeth. “Obligate carnivore, dude. Our diets are like… We’re s’posed to eat primarily animals. Meat, bones, organs, eggs, you name it, we probably have at least ten different recipes for it. Fruits and seeds and grain stuff are okay, we mostly eat ’em for desserts or sides. Vegetables, though, we don’t get, like, hardly any nutrition from, so they’re only for additives to change the taste of other dishes. We don’t eat them on their own or anything.”

Thie raised an eyebrow. “That sounds fake, but okay… What about dairy?”

“Did you miss the part where we eat bones? ’Cause we eat bones. And plates, those are like bones, but on the outside and with more minerals. Speaking of…” He put Tollak’s box of cup noodles down and dug into the next package, sniffing a mile a minute. “Ah-ha!” he crowed, pulling out a neat little tin. “Marrow pies!”

“What’re those?” Shala asked curiously, peering around Thie for a better look.

Axilus grinned. “Basically, you make dough for dinner rolls, make it into little bowls, fill it up with bone marrow, and then cover that up with more dough. It’s delicious.” With that, he promptly opened the tin, pulled out one of the little pies, and popped it in his mouth.

Thie made a face. “Gross, dude.”

Axilus fluttered his mandibles. “Better’n paste, bro. Lemme see what else is in here.”

As Axilus put his head back in the box, Thie jumped as Ashalla barked at him. “Hey, Haasn! Less boyfriend, more paperwork!”

Thie felt his face heat up as he went back to his datapad. “He’s _not_ my boyfriend,” he muttered.

“Right, uh-huh, sure.”

Thie huffed, but continued scrolling, scanning for anything that could actually be considered important. There was mostly nothing, but one thing stuck out to him- a message from Tuzh, with no distinguishable recipient.

He frowned, then tapped on the message to highlight the line. Still nothing. “Hey, Ashalla,” he said, “Look at this.”

She frowned and leaned over, and he moved the datapad so she could see. “No ‘to:’ line,” he told her, pointing at the line. “Just a ‘from’, and no subject.”

One of her cheeks gained a dimple as she sucked it in to chew. “Weird. I’ll take a look at it later, there might be a glitch in the system somewhere. It’s probably nothing, but the last thing we need is all my paperwork going out the window ‘cause I don’t know who’s talking to who, yeah?”

She took the datapad from him, and he was reaching for a new one when suddenly his wrist was snatched by a plated hand.

He yelped as Axilus dragged his arm over. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

Axilus rolled his eyes and deposited some sort of round biscuit-type thing into his hand. “It’s a cookie,” he said. “Eat it, it’s good. Grandma Corinn made them.”

Thie blinked at him, but before he could respond, Gerrel practically materialized over Axilus’ shoulder, holding out a hand. “Rent collection. One cookie per turian resident.”

Axilus raised a brow plate, then snorted and slapped a cookie into Gerrel’s hand. The admiral cracked a grin and stuffed it in his mouth, then drifted off, wandering around the counter to put the stolen coffeepot back, now completely empty. “Ashalla. Seen Xala around?”

“Not recently, sir. Are you okay?”

“Perfectly. Depressive, but that’s normal for this time of year. Nothing the meds won’t fix.”

Ashalla frowned slightly but nodded. “I can comm the commander for you, sir.”

“Don’t bother. Think he’s got a sixth sense for when I’m up and about. Give it a few, he’ll be hovering over my shoulder in no time.”

“If you say so, sir.”

Gerrel waved a hand and wandered away. Thie watched him go- he didn’t go far, choosing to simply fall over sideways into a large cushion the Pilgrim who had brought it back said was a human thing called a “beanbag chair.”

Thie looked down at a nudge at his hand, then back at Axilus, who had been responsible for the nudge. “Eat the cookie, Thie,” he insisted once Thie’s attention was on him again. “They get gross if you leave them out of the container for too long.”

“I still don’t know what it _is_.”

Axilus sighed patiently. “A _cookie_. Little sweet pastry, with extra sweet stuff mixed in for flavor. _Parmat_ makes them with little sprinkles baked in, and lots of this really nice icing that she won’t tell anybody what it’s made of. You mean to tell me they don’t give you cookies on the Fleet?”

At the other end of the table, Reegar offered, “They do on the liveships.”

Thie scowled. “Lucky liveships.”

Axilus snorted. “I’m pretty sure that was sarcasm, but you don’t know how right you are. Just eat it, Thie, it’s good.”

“Forgive me if I’m wary to trust the one who thinks eating an eel whole is an acceptable meal.”

Axilus rolled his eyes. “ _Omnivores_.”

Thie gave him a Look, then hesitantly took a bite, shooting a glare in Reegar’s direction when he mentioned that if Thie didn’t eat it, he would. It was… better than expected, admittedly. It was sweet, but not overly so, and an even balance of crisp and soft. The icing, like Axilus had said, was delicious. He swallowed, then met Axilus’ expectant gaze. “What?”

“Well?”

He shrugged sullenly. “I _guess_ it’s good. I don’t know, I haven’t had cookies before.”

Axilus twitched a mandible. “I’ll take what I get.” Then he blinked and raised his head, looking over Thie’s shoulder and fluttering his mandibles.

Thie frowned, then tensed, shoulders hiking up to about the same level as his jaw when a familiar, semi-deep voice barked behind him. “Thie’Haasn vas _Tonbay_ nar _Olyna!”_

Axilus let out a vaguely amused-sounding trill, and Thie slowly turned to see his stepmother striding towards him. “Hi, Mom,” he muttered, watching as Gerrel’s legs moved back onto the beanbag chair with the rest of him so Cila wouldn’t step on him. Behind her, Del was drifting along, wringing his wrists and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else, accompanied by a female quarian who came up to maybe his chin. “Hey, Del.”

His brother nodded to him, and Cila came to a stop a few feet away, folding her arms across her chest. “It’s been almost a year already, and no contact?”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Been busy.” He eyed the female with Del. “Who’s she?”

“Don’t change the-”

“Tazi’Zelaan vas _Sani_ ,” she interrupted, holding out a hand. “Del’s girlfriend.”

He glanced at Del and raised an eyebrow, and his brother just shrugged with an ‘ _I don’t really know, either’_ sort of expression.

Cila looked between them, then groaned and crossed the short distance between her and Thie, wrapping her arms around him and picking him up in a tight hug. “Keelah, kid, I missed you!”

Thie made a noise not unlike a pyjak being run over by a Tomkah. “Choking. Not breathing.”

She dropped him, and Thie didn’t need to see her face to know she was grinning. “Sorry, got a little over-excited.” She offered him a hand, and pulled him to his feet when he accepted.

“You do that a lot,” came a grumble from near Del. Gerrel had apparently decided he needed more coffee, because he drifted between the small family reunion over to the counter, eyes unfocused.

Cila rolled her eyes, then turned to eye Axilus suspiciously. “Who’s the turian?”

Shala’Ganu let out a little squeak. “He’s Thie’s boyfriend.”

Thie squawked. “He is not!”

“Is too,” Reegar said. “Had sex and everything.”

Cila’s eyes narrowed, and Thie swallowed hard. “You _what?”_ she asked.

Gerrel snickered, sounding just a little more alive than he had been. “Yeah, put him in a sex coma and everything.”

“A what?”

Gerrel coughed. “Turns out turian stuff has an… an… aphro-whosi-tack in it.”

“Aphrodisiac?” Cila suggested, voice icy.

Gerrel took no notice, eyes still doing that weird unfocused thing. “Yeah, that. Explains a lot about _my_ Pilgrimage, come to think of it.”

Cila puffed up. “What, and you let it happen?”

Gerrel grunted. “Didn’t know it would. Funny, though.”

The next thing Thie was aware of, Cila had somehow rounded the corner in the blink of an eye and was slamming her fist into Gerrel’s sternum.

Gerrel hit the ground hard, the only sound he made a high-pitched wheeze. But no sooner had he figured out where the admiral had landed than he heard a choked yelp, and he spun back around.

He’d heard rumors about how quick and quiet the _Neema_ ’s XO could be, common theory claiming he was actually a salarian in a very elaborate disguise, but he hadn’t actually _believed_ them. Yet there Xala was, standing behind Cila and holding her arm twisted behind her back, stance and expression chillingly neutral.

And then, like enough hadn’t already happened, half the room jumped out of their suits as Del, normally quiet as a _Galaxy of Fantasy_ dungeon immediately before the boss appeared, jumped a foot off the ground and yelped, “What the _fuck?_ ”

Del came back down and clapped his hands over his ears, looking like he’d just given himself a heart attack with his own fright. Meanwhile, the rest of the room’s occupants burst into babble, the general consensus of which seemed to be, “He can _talk?”_ and, “Why is his voice so _deep?”_ Reegar had fallen out of his chair, and poor little Shala’Ganu looked like she’d swallowed her own tongue.

Thie was more surprised Del had said it without stuttering, but then, he’d grown up with him.

Even the nigh-unflappable Xala had gotten startled enough to let go of Cila’s arm, though he quickly grabbed it again once he’d recovered. “Please don’t punch my husband,” he said rather icily. “He’s more fragile than he likes to think.”

“Yeahyeahyeah got it let _go!”_ Cila barked, spine arched to accommodate the arm being pulled back to where arms were generally not supposed to be.

Xala let go of her arm, and while she recovered, he crossed over to where Gerrel was still lying winded and crouched down. “Han, are you alright?”

Thie thought he heard a waver in Xala’s voice, but brushed it off. It was none of his business. Gerrel, meanwhile, wheezed and slowly dragged himself up until he was propped up on his elbows. “Fine,” he said, voice sounding rather forced. “Jus’ fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.” Nope, definitely a waver in his voice. “Do you need medical? She hits really hard…”

Gerrel eyed Xala. “Xala, are you crying?”

“No!”

Gerrel gave him a Look for half a second, then reached up and yanked his mask off. “I knew it! You are too crying! Xala…”

“I am not!” Xala spluttered, the light in the room glinting off the big, fat tears running down his face. “I just have something in my eye.”

“Yeah. They’re called tears, _ruaha la’i_.” He pressed a kiss to Xala’s forehead, then gave him his mask back and allowed himself to be pulled into a tight hug. “It was just a punch, Xala, calm down.”

“She could have cracked your sternum,” Xala muttered, tightening his grip slightly.

Cila huffed, folding her arms. “I’m honored you think so highly of me, but I’m no Lia’Adas.”

“And thank the ancestors you’re not, or you _would’ve_ hurt him,” Xala said sharply.

Cila rolled her eyes, then looked at Del, who still had his hands over the sides of his head. “Del. _Del_. Del, come on, it’s okay now.”

Tazi, who had been watching the nonsense with her arms folded across her chest, sighed and tugged on one of Del’s belts. “Hey, come on,” she said quietly, reaching up to gently move one of Del’s hands. “It’s okay. Everything’s cool now, yeah?”

With coaxing from Tazi, Del slowly put his hands back down, and Cila nodded. “Thanks, Taz.”

“No problem.”

Slowly, the room returned to normal. Reegar got up off the floor, Axilus went back to picking through his care packages, and Gerrel eventually calmed Xala down from his worry and both got back to their feet. “Well, that was fun,” Gerrel said dryly, bouncing on his toes slightly. “Still hit like a krogan, I see.”

Cila nodded sharply. “As always.” She looked at Xala, folding her arms. “All that fuss over a punch?”

Xala flushed bright enough for Thie to see the outline of his nose through his visor, and Gerrel chuckled. “He’s been a worrywart since the grenade incident. Big baby.” He gave Xala a friendly shove with his shoulder.

Xala fidgeted. “Han…”

“I know, I know. We’ll go see medical in a bit, just give me a minute.” He nodded to Cila and folded his arms. “Since you’re here anyway, fancy a bit of sparring after medical clears me? Don’t have a lot else to do for now. Patrol Fleet wants to head on over to the next system, so nothing’s going to happen until we get the signal to move into position for FTL travel.”

Cila nodded. “I’m in if he is,” she said with a look at Xala.

Xala nodded, and Gerrel grinned. “Great! Give me, say, three hours, and I’ll meet you there.”

They shook on it, and Gerrel and Xala drifted off. As Thie watched, Xala slowly slid his hand down to grip Gerrel’s, and Gerrel leaned against Xala just a little as they walked.

He turned back to his step-mother just in time for her to get within a foot of him, arms folded. “Now what’s this about a turian boyfriend, young man?”

Thie groaned, and behind him, Axilus made a high keening sound before saying, “You’re on your own for this conversation, bro.”

* * *

 

 **TO:** 0-000-135537

 **FROM:** 3-3T2-8448698

 **SUBJECT:** 0-P01-7-6341Q

Encouraged installment of in-visor camera to ease monitoring of 0-P01-7-6341Q's progress. 0-H01-263367 will comply.

* * *

**TO:** 0-000-2, 0-000-3

 **FROM:** 0-000-1

 **SUBJECT:** Anomalous Findings, 0-S11

0-H01-263367 has identified potential evidence of conspiracy. Several messages from 0-S11-7-2131A with no discernable alternate party have been pulled from databanks. Messages are heavily encrypted; access to necessary resources for decoding has been authorized. 3-3T2-8448698 will be in contact with any further developments. Discern what is going on if at all possible, and pass the information on to 3-3T2-8448698, who will then transfer it to necessary parties.


	8. Okay, This Is the Last Relaxed Chapter for a Bit, so Fucking Enjoy It

**Galactic Standard Day 5, Week 6, Month 7, Year 2908**

**(Late Terran Year 2168 CE)**

Axilus, quite frankly, had no interest in sticking around to get interrogated by Thie’s step-mother. So the moment he saw an opportunity, he packed up his stuff and ran. Then, faced with a couple hours of nothing really interesting to hold his attention until the sparring started, he did what any other good, self-respecting turian far from home would do.

He called his mother.

She was ecstatic to hear from him, of course. He’d been calling regularly, but he knew from years of his father being away on sporadic, months-long deployments that she couldn’t help but worry every day she went without contact. He wished he were better at engineering things so he could at least tell her about things she’d be interested in to make up for the sporadic calls.

It was relaxing to talk to his mother. He dimly remembered from biology classes he’d only kind of paid attention to that chicks learned to recognize their parents, or at the very least primary care-givers, within a few days, so their voices automatically instilled a sense of calm and safety, because blah blah blah. He’d gotten high marks in biology because he liked anthropology, not because he _studied_. Mari wanted to hear everything he’d been up to, had the care packages arrived intact, what did Tollak send, was he _sure_ it was enough to eat, did he need anything from home, was he staying warm, how was Thie, was _he_ doing okay, and so on.

It made Axilus’ heart ache to listen to her fretting. Spirits, he just wanted to go home.

“And have you run into Siri at all?” his mother asked, maybe an hour and a half into the conversation. “How is she?”

“Siri? Oh, she’s doing great. She’s with the _Yaska_. Helped us out on a mission a few months back.”

“Really?” His mother’s subvocals trilled with relief. “Spirits, that’s good. So she’s doing okay for herself, no hassle? Settling in okay?”

“Yeah, Mari, Siri’s fine.” He cocked a mandible. “She’s got a boyfriend, too. He’s in my- well, _Thie’s_ squad.”

She went silent. Then, “Give me a name, Axi.”

He paused. “Uh, Mari…”

“ _Name_ , Axilus.”

He swallowed. “Han’Seyya vas _Yaska_. Big guy, like almost my size.”

Her mandibles clicked hard against her jaw plates. “Spirits…”

“I-It’s okay, though! She has a cousin, Lila, she’s one of our friends, and, uh… I think Han’s a little scared of her… Something about…” He swallowed again. “Making him a noose from his own entrails if he hurts Siri?”

His mother was quiet for a good while, then she nodded sharply. “I like her.”

“Mari, that’s _really_ creepy. Like, something out of one of those horror movies you wouldn’t let me or Tol watch until we were thirteen and still insisted on being in the room with us for ’cause you thought we’d get too scared.”

“You two started crying and made me turn those movies off half an hour in.”

“Yeah, exactly!”

Axilus had forgotten exactly how difficult it was to convince his mother of anything different once she’d gotten hold of an idea. Supposedly, his grandfather was worse, but he’d never been stupid enough to try to argue against _Trierceo_ and expect to win. Well, he had, once, but he’d been only three years old, and it had ended with him being picked up by the cowl and not allowed out of Trierceo’s sight until he’d apologized for being stubborn. He hadn’t liked it, but the message got across loud and clear: _don’t argue with your elders._

He figured convincing his mother not to scare poor Han’Seyya half to death was worth breaking the rule.

She took maybe half an hour to convince, and even then it was less of convincing her and more of agreeing to let her speak to Seyya next time she called. Not an ideal arrangement, but it would have to do.

Scientists could probably unlock some secret of the universe by studying how much his mother could talk, Axilus figured. He didn’t mind, of course, he loved talking to her and, usually, gossiping. But there had to be something to explain how she could keep a conversation going for ages, right up until Thie and Cila and the others reappeared and she told him to go have fun, remember to call again soon, and for spirits’ sake wash behind his mandibles more.

She was such a mom that some days he genuinely didn’t believe that she’d ever been anything else.

The call over, and with nothing better to do, he trailed after Cila and her little brood halfway across the ship to the sparring arena, a massive room divided halfway through by a thick glass wall. The half closer to the door held tables, chairs, and a small area with food and first aid for recharging after a bout, and the other was a standard arena, lined with mats and padding for safety. Gerrel and Xala were already waiting for them, and a couple other marines were waiting around, nothing better to do until the rest of the Fleet gave the signal to jump systems.

Gerrel, looking none the worse for wear after his hot date with the floor, was delighted to see them, informing them they now had enough people hanging around to cycle through fights until medical had to be called. Xala seemed apprehensive, but Cila liked the plan, so the poor commander got overruled.

“You can store your armor by the wall,” Gerrel told them, looking more awake than he had in weeks. “Everything off, else it’s not fair.”

Axilus chirred and raised a brow plate, and Gerrel snorted. “I don’t expect you to take your plates off, Madelivio. Just the detachable armor.”

There was a round of laughter, and Axilus rolled his eyes, then took a seat at one of the tables and started pulling his armor off. The quarians got theirs off before he did, of course; they didn’t have cowls getting in their way. By the time he’d gotten down to just the lower half of his undersuit, Gerrel and Cila had already taken to the ring, and the others had taken to standing by the window, watching. After taking a moment to move his things over to the wall, he joined them, standing just behind Thie and a little to his left, near Xala.

Gerrel and Cila were of similar builds, both stocky and muscular, and while the match had only just started, it was already clear it was going to be a close fight. Gerrel had an almost turian style, Axilus noted, keeping one fist up to guard his face and neck while the other hovered lower, protecting his abdomen. The main difference was that while turians bounced in place, staying ready to dodge a sideswipe, Gerrel remained grounded, his movements slower and more deliberate, weight evenly distributed between his legs. He kept his body and head turned to compensate for his bad eye, maximizing his field of view.

Cila, meanwhile, was quick, hopping back and forth, constantly trying to get in Gerrel’s blind spot and stay there while also darting in to try and land a blow before zipping back out of range. Every time she landed one, Axilus heard Xala suck in a breath while Gerrel staggered back. On the other hand, he could hear Thie muttering little cheers for his stepmother every so often. “Get ’im, Mom,” Thie said under his breath at one point, leaning close enough to the glass Axilus thought he might try to phase through it.

Cila fought dirty, too, Axilus noticed. Sucker punches were common, and she seemed to favor punching Gerrel right in his sternum. After barely ten minutes, Gerrel was breathing hard, moving significantly slower than when he’d started, and looked about ready to keel over. While Gerrel had landed plenty of his own punches, repeated hits to the chest weren’t exactly conducive for maintaining endurance.

One more hit to Gerrel’s sternum, and he went down hard, sliding a foot or two on the floor before coming to a stop, panting hard. Next to Axilus, Xala yelped like a kicked varren pup, and went sprinting in the moment the match was called. By the time he’d gotten to Gerrel, though, the admiral was already shakily getting back to his feet, grabbing hold of Xala the moment he was within reach and using him for support as he walked back out of the room. “Keelah,” he wheezed once he’d recovered enough breath, “that might have been a bad idea.”

“Sorry,” Cila said with a shrug, wiping at the trickle of blood from her nose.

Xala helped Gerrel to a seat, then made a distressed sound. “Keelah, Han, you’re bleeding!”

“Huh?” Gerrel reached up to his face and ran a finger under his nose, then looked at the blood that had come off on it. “Oh, would you look at that.”

“Han, don’t do that, now it’s _worse_ -”

“Of course it is, Xala, I just moved it around!” He scowled, though the effect was lessened somewhat by his tongue flicking out to lick off the stream of blood now coming out of his nose. "I'm  _fine."_

Xala made another distressed little noise, then huffed. “Just… Just go get some ice or something, would you? Sit out for the next match, you need to sit down.”

“Yes, yes, fine.” Gerrel rolled his eyes, then grumbled to himself, rubbing at where Cila’s last hit had landed.

Xala sighed and rejoined the main group, folding his arms across his chest. “Sorry about that.”

Cila shrugged. “Eh, no big deal. Everyone knows how you get.”

“I don’t _get_ like anything.”

Cila raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Dude, you’re not wearing your helmet. We can all see you’re crying again.”

Xala quickly wiped at his eyes, and Cila snickered, then offered, “Here, why don’t you and Del go a round? Take your mind off him for a bit.”

Behind her, a panicked look flickered briefly across Del's face, and Xala raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

She turned to look at her elder stepson. “Del, would you mind?”

Del hesitated, then shrugged and nodded. “That’s the spirit. Go on, get in there, then.”

Tazi fidgeted. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea…”

Del patted her head and shook his slightly, then gave her a little thumbs-up. She groaned. “Yeah, ‘It isn’t, but I’ll live.’ That’s _so_ reassuring.”

Del shrugged again, and she huffed, lightly punching his shoulder. “Just be careful, alright?”

Xala patted her shoulder on his way past. “He’ll be fine.”

“With all due respect, sir, I doubt that.”

Xala gave her a sad little smile, and Del followed him into the arena.

Axilus raised a brow, then let out a little trill. “He doesn’t talk much, does he?”

“Who, Del?” Cila asked, looking at him. He nodded, and she shrugged, going back to watching the ring. “Nah. He’s autistic, mostly nonverbal. He only talks when it’s really important.” She paused, then added, “Or if he’s really startled, and then he scares himself 'cause he isn't expecting it.”

Axilus blinked, flicking his mandibles up. “Autism? My brother has that.”

“Tollak?” Thie asked, looking at him with a furrowed brow.

He nodded. “Not quite the same way Del does, though. He talks, but only when he’s comfortable with the situation. He used to only talk to Mom and Dad, and then me when I showed up. Mom says I learned how to babble from him, ‘cause he can go on for ages about his… Iunno, Mom had this phrase for it… Special interests, I think. 'Specially flowers. He _loves_ flowers. Mom used to call him her little flower child, before he got big.”

Thie blinked slowly, then shook his head. “Never would’ve guessed. Is he hypersensitive, too?”

“Yeah, for the most part. Some days are better than others, you know?” He flicked a mandible. “He shoves his face in flowers to handle it. I think he looks funny, but Mom thinks it’s adorable.”

Cila grinned at him. “That _is_ adorable. I want pictures.”

Thie let out a quiet little groan. “Mom, no.”

“Mom, yes. Why can’t you do anything that cute?”

_“Mom!”_

“Shh!” Tazi scolded them. “Watch!”

There was some grumbling, and the group turned to watch the fight that had already started. Del was tall but lean, an even match for the similarly-built Xala. Xala wasn’t that much shorter, but much quicker, hopping back and forth to dodge. Del was standing somewhat hunched, and seemed reluctant to move too much.

Xala managed to land a roundhouse to Del’s side, and Del yelped, then shook himself and straightened up, rising to about half or three-quarters of a head taller than Xala, squaring his shoulders. Xala looked startled, pausing in his darting about to stare up at him with wide eyes, then quickly rolled his shoulders and went back in.

Axilus whistled. “He’s big.”

Cila glanced back at him, then chuckled and looked back at the arena. “Yeah, he always has been. Just kinda," she made a popping noise with her mouth, jerking a thumb towards the ceiling, "straight up when he was eight or so. Scared the shit out of everybody for a while, he was so damn big for his age. Iunno where he gets it, not gonna lie.”

In the arena, Xala had adapted quickly to Del’s height, now sidestepping around and around, obviously trying to catch him off-balance, and occasionally tossing an experimental kick or punch. Del spun around, trying to keep him in sight. Every now and then, Del would lash out, usually either hitting Xala or just barely missing.

The pattern continued for maybe seven minutes, until Xala apparently got fed up and leaped forward instead of to the side.

Del wasn’t expecting that. He tried to brace himself, but by the time his legs were anywhere near a good position for it, Xala had already made contact, toppling him over onto his back. Xala went down with him, but quickly hopped back to his feet, panting slightly and flicking his head to get his hair out of his eyes.

After a moment, the match was called, and Xala reached down to offer Del a hand, only to be pushed aside by Tazi, whom Axilus swore had teleported.

“What’s going on?”

Axilus jumped at the unexpected voice from behind him and spun around, flaring his mandibles when he realized who it was. “Spirits, when’d you get here?”

Lia’Adas grinned, folding her arms across her chest. “Just now. _Nuok_ ’s clear for FTL jump whenever the rest of the Fleet is, so we dropped by to see if there’s anything to do until Civilian sends the ready. Hazir said there was some sparring going on, so here we are.”

Behind Lia, Gerrel coughed. “Hey, Todor,” he said, looking towards the door, where Son’Todor was making his way in. “Why’s your helmet still on? We have rules.”

Todor exhaled slowly. “Take a guess.”

Lia turned to face him. “Did Kael fall again?”

“Yes.” Todor turned around, and sure enough, there was little Kael, tangled in Todor’s hoses and hanging upside-down. The child blinked up at his mother, then grinned and burbled, “Ma!”

Lia sighed. “Naturally. Hold still, I’ll get him out. Kael, stay still, okay? Mommy’s gonna get you unstuck.”

Kael made an “okay” sort of noise, and Lia got to work. Meanwhile, Xala and Tazi had helped Del to a seat, and Thie had gone over to check on his brother. “Dude, are you alright?”

Del made a hand gesture, and Thie folded his arms. “ _Just_ dizzy? You got fucking _body-slammed_.”

Xala made an offended sort of noise. “I did not _body-slam_ him. It was a _tackle_.”

“Same general thing, Xala,” Gerrel teased, loping over. “Anyway. So, Haasn, you game for a round with Madelivio? Biotics-only?”

Thie blinked. “What?”

“That was not a difficult sentence, kid. Yes or no, do you want to or do you not?”

“Uh…”

“That’s not an answer.”

Axilus fluttered his mandibles and wandered over. “Biotics match?”

Gerrel shrugged. “Not like we have anything else to do. Civilian Fleet always takes days to get ready to hop systems, and they only just started getting ready earlier today.”

Axilus looked at Thie, and Thie sighed. “Why not? Might be fun.”

Gerrel grinned broadly. “Excellent. Xala, you stick with Haasn… Haason… Tallson, that’ll work. You stick with Tallson and keep an eye on him, I’ll go with Madelivio and Smallson.”

Xala slowly blinked a few times. “Tallson and Smallson? Really, Han?”

“It was the best I could do on short notice,” he answered with a shrug. Then he cracked a grin, glancing at Thie. “Heh. Short.”

Thie rolled his eyes, and Axilus snickered. Puns were funnier when he wasn’t the one they were being told to.

The padding on the floor was soft and squishy under his toe-claws, even with the vinyl covering, and he sincerely hoped moving quickly wouldn’t rip anything. He had a sinking feeling the mats weren’t made to withstand turian talons; he’d have to be careful, or he might tear the whole room up.

Thie took up a position a few arm-lengths away, bouncing on his toes slightly, and he took a deep breath, moved his feet into a more fight-ready stance, and focused.

His biotics came easily now, much more in-command than they had been what felt like a lifetime ago on the _Anchrivos_ with Commander Nieght. Energy crackled along his plates, little flashes of lightning jumping between the matrixes of thulium woven through them. Across from him, Thie’s biotics were more of an aura than a storm, pulsating in time with his breath. It was kind of beautiful, in a way.

Much better than the vids he’d watched as a kid.

Almost like there was an unspoken cue, they both started at the same time, Thie drawing his arm back at the very moment Axilus stepped into the spinning dance he’d been trying to learn from vids of Saren and practicing in the combat sim. He felt the first shove of Thie’s throw right as the energy disk left his claw-tips, and vainly tried to sink his talons into the mats as he was knocked off his feet and backwards into the wall.

He hit with a grunt of pain, and stayed leaning against the wall for a moment to catch his breath. Then he shook his head and hopped back upright, shaking his shoulders and arms to reorient himself. So that was how it was going to be. He grinned to himself, then let out a roar before half-loping, half-stomping back to his spot.

Whoever had made Thie’s amplifier had known what they were doing. While Thie’s biotics weren’t as ridiculous as they had been that time in Cipritine’s combat sim with the asari implant, they’d gotten back up to a fair strength, and Thie succeeded in throwing him into the wall several more times after that. Each time, it hurt a little more, but he wasn’t about to let it show. He was a Madelivio, dammit.

At least he was getting in some good hits of his own. Nieght had been a good mentor, and the extranet had more than a few sites for getting species-specific tips on biotics combat. And, of course, practice in the combat sim certainly didn’t hurt. But after a while, he was starting to favor his bad leg, and Thie was noticeably slower and looked like he was having trouble staying upright, and he had to wonder if either of them would actually win.

The audience apparently had the same idea, because just as he was starting to start the motion for another warp, the match was called- a draw.

He tried not to look too relieved, and instead simply limped over to Thie, offering him a hand and letting him lean against him as they walked out of the ring together.

He got Thie to sit down at a table, letting out a concerned chirr. “Are you okay?” he asked, fluttering his mandibles with alarm when Thie only put his head down on the cool metal instead of responding. “Is it another headache? Do you need medical?”

Thie grunted. “Just some water or something. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Just need a drink, is all. And quiet.” He tilted his head to the side, peering up at Axilus out of the corner of his eye. "Please."

Axilus whined, then trotted over to the little kitchen area, getting a bottle of water for Thie and, after a moment’s thought, a handful of little packaged snack cakes that looked like they might have been requisitioned from a turian planet. He’d already eaten half of them by the time he got back to Thie, and would have eaten more if the stupid packaging didn’t keep getting in his way.

A couple other marines had taken up seats around Thie by the time he got back. He recognized Savval, the marine from the derelict mission, along with the usual gang of Han’Seyya, Lila’Yaana, and Kal’Reegar. The little flock of pre-Pilgrimage trainees who usually followed Lila around were milling around off to one side, unsure of whether or not they’d be welcome in the adults’ circle.

He sat down next to Thie and gave him the water, then glanced over at the window. “I miss anything?”

Savval hummed. “Admiral and Lia’Adas are going at it. Should be quick, to be honest.”

“Why?”

There was a loud _thud_ , and he winced, then craned his neck to try and see what had happened as Savval said simply, “Lia fights dirty.”

Gerrel had been thrown against the wall and sat crumpled against it in a manner resembling a puppet with the strings cut, looking simultaneously dazed and bewildered. Xala had already sprinted in to help him up, mouth moving a mile a minute around words Axilus couldn’t quite hear through the glass. Lia had a distinct “oops” sort of look on her face, and Todor was groaning under his breath, mumbling, “Lia, why?”

After a minute, Xala and Gerrel joined them at the table, Xala muttering under his breath about how Gerrel was going to get himself killed one of these days with how his first instinct was always to fight. “Now stay here, and don’t get into trouble,” Xala sternly ordered as Gerrel gingerly sat down. “I’ll get water. And ice.”

Gerrel watched him trot swiftly off, then rolled his eyes. “I’m fine,” he said with a scowl, folding his arms before nodding to the others. “Savval, didn’t see you arrive. How long’ve you been here?”

“Only a few minutes, sir.” She bobbed her head respectfully. "I was helping Requisitions and got bored. Some salarians on... whassit called... Arshorth asked for some spare suits."

Gerrel raised a brow. "And what do salarians need with quarian suits?"

She shrugged. "They're salarians. If you ask them why they do anything, they'll just be like, 'Science,' and wiggle their fingers at you." She demonstrated, then looked over Axilus’ shoulder with a tilted head. “Who’s the giant?” She glanced at Seyya to her left, then amended, “ _Other_ giant?”

Axilus turned to look, and sure enough, there was a somewhat-familiar too-tall quarian drifting in the door. She looked up from her datapad and glanced around, then back down, then up and down again, muttering to herself. “This is _not_ the comm room… You’re _useless_ ,” she told the datapad, poking at it a few times. _"Completely_ useless."

Gerrel made a quiet choking noise. “Keelah. Why is Dara’Neeya here?”

Before anybody could find out, baby Kael, perched on Todor’s shoulders, let out a demanding mewl. “Tall!”

Dara looked up, glancing back and forth a few times like she was just getting her bearings on where she was again, then immediately made a beeline for Todor and the baby. “Oh, he’s so cute! How old is he?”

Todor made a confused sort of noise, eyes wide. “Uh, he’ll be a year in a couple weeks…”

“Ohhh." Dara circled him once, which seemed oddly habitual, then asked, "Can I hold him?”

"Uh..." Todor blinked, screwing up his face slightly. “I don’t know about that…”

“Oh, please? He’s so cute!”

“Tall!” Kael chirped again, delighted. He reached for Dara, and while her mask still hid her face, the broad smile on her face was obvious in how her eyes crinkled up. After another moment, Todor mutely handed him over, and Kael immediately started attempting to climb up to her shoulders, much to Dara's obvious delight.

"What a dorky kid." Lia shook her head, then punched Todor lightly in the arm. “Hey, Son, let’s go a round, huh? Me and you.”

Todor squeaked. _“You?”_

“I’ll go easy on you.” Lia grinned, slinging an arm around his shoulders- or, well, as close to his shoulders as she could get, being rather shorter than him.  _"Al'tha._ It's been too long."

Gerrel barked a laugh. “Hey, yeah! Go for it, should be entertaining.” He grinned maliciously. “For five minutes.”

There was a chorus of agreement from the rest of the marines, and Todor fidgeted, looking beyond nervous. “What about Kael?”

“Oh, if you want to spar, I can watch him!” Dara cheerfully chirped, peeling her attention away from the child now happily patting his hands along the ridges of her helmet. “I think he likes being up high.”

Todor wavered a bit, mouth working through words that never made it out, then sighed. “Fine…”

Lia grinned, and the two headed in just as Xala reappeared with water and ice for Gerrel. Axilus yawned to himself and idly watched as Xala helped Gerrel put together an ice pack and balance it on the back of his neck. Maybe halfway through, Xala blinked, then paused. “Wait, where’d Lia and Son go?”

Gerrel grunted and motioned back towards the ring with one hand, and Xala swallowed audibly. “They’re fighting? Are you trying to get Son killed?”

Gerrel laughed. “He’ll be _fine_ , Xala. He’s perfectly capable.”

“Not against Lia, he’s not.”

“You worry too much.”

Xala scowled. “And you’re far too relaxed about this. For an admiral, you’re awful at ease about possibly getting a subordinate confined to the medbay for a year.”

This apparently reminded Thie of something, because he turned his head over to look at Gerrel and Xala. “Who was Zaemin?”

The two, caught by surprise, froze, then Gerrel cautiously said, “That’s a far cry from Son’Todor, kid.”

“Xala said something about the admirals replacing Zaemin that time we went to the _Tonbay_. Who was he?”

Gerrel blinked slowly, then sighed and looked at Xala. "Sorry in advance."

Xala crossed his arms like he was holding himself. "I'll be okay."

"You sure? I won't say anything while you're here if it makes you uncomfortable."

"No, no, I'm fine." He certainly didn't look fine, face ashen and cheek sucked in where he was presumably chewing on the inside of it. "Go ahead."

Gerrel looked about as worried as Axilus could remember him ever looking, but slowly said, “Saar’Zaemin vas _Kijiuu_. Former admiral. Died when the _Kijiuu_ did.”

Thie furrowed his brow. “What?”

Xala fidgeted, looking like he was debating forcibly losing his lunch. “The _Kijiuu_ was a very old dreadnought, even older than the _Neema_. Had her weapons stripped away to make more room for civilians. And old ships like that have a tendency to, well…” He made a hand gesture miming an explosion.

Axilus swallowed. “It blew up?”

Gerrel shrugged. "Well, kinda. The ship's still mostly intact, it's more that the side of it just kinda..." He made a motion with his hands, "y'know, 'boom'ed when the core went. Worst kind of engine failure, honestly. Vented half the damn ship. We were picking survivors out of the debris for days. Never found Saar's body, though." He leaned back in his seat with a long sigh, folding his hands behind his head. "Best guess we have is he was incinerated in the blast. Quick and painless, or at least we hope so. 's either that or he died from the explosive decompression or got smashed to death by the debris, or, hell, maybe he just got spaced and died waiting for us to find him."

His voice cracked and he had to take a moment to clear his throat and recollect himself before finishing, "Hell of a way to go. Painful, too. Hope he got the painless death he deserved, the poor guy."

With a sigh, Gerrel shook his head. "Either way, it's a damn shame. Everyone liked Zaemin, even snotty ol’ Tuzh, so replacing him’s been... well, _difficult,_ to say the least. He's- he _was_ a good man. Whoever fills his spot will have a _lot_ to try and live up to.”

Xala rolled his neck and leaned back slightly. “And the one _you_ want to put forward isn’t ready yet.”

“No,” Gerrel admitted, nodding a little in agreement. “Not yet." He cast a brief glance over his shoulder at the arena and added, "But he will be. I've got a good feeling about him, Xal. Trust me.”

Xala opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a heavy thud, followed immediately by a panicked, squeaky, _“Lia!”_

"Don't tell me he just-" Gerrel twisted in his seat to look behind him, then grinned, muttering, "Oh, _pa'vir,_ Xal, he did it," and shoved his seat back. “What did I just say?” he called over his shoulder, trotting over to the door.

Lia was lying on the floor, a very stricken-looking Todor standing over her. After a few moments of Lia not moving, Kael started to cry from atop Dara’s shoulders, making that little wibbling whine that always came right before a squall. Dara looked up at him, eyes widening behind her mask. “Oh, no.” She hesitated, then tried to reach up to comfort him. “Uh, it’s okay, I’m sure your mother’s fine!”

The door hissed open and Lia came out of the ring supported on either side by Todor and Gerrel, looking winded but none the worse for wear. Immediately, Kael reached for her and shrieked, _“Ma!”_

Lia looked up, then attempted a smile. “I’m okay, Kael, just give me a moment, okay?”

“Ma!”

“I, uh, I think you better take him,” Dara said, Kael now starting to squirm on her shoulders. She moved him down to her chest, and he reached insistently for Lia, who only sighed.

“I know, Kael, but I need to sit down first, okay? And have some water.”

“No! Want Ma!”

Lia groaned, but reached up to take Kael, holding him against her chest as Todor helped her over to a seat. “Keelah, Kael, shh… It’s okay, Mommy’s not hurt, see? Mommy’s okay.”

Kael whined, and Todor sighed. “Keelah, we should have asked Elani to babysit…”

“We’ve been leaving him with a sitter a lot lately, I don’t want him to think we don’t want him around.”

Todor sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll go get you some water. Kael, do you want a snack?”

Kael twisted in Lia’s arms, then beamed. “Yes! Pliss?”

Todor smiled and ruffled his hair, then trotted off. Meanwhile, Gerrel and Xala looked at each other, then Gerrel clapped his hands together and grinned. “So, who’s next?”

* * *

 

 **TO:** Dr. Aela’Den vas _Tonbay_

 **FROM:** Dr. Razza’Hara vas _Neema_

 **SUBJECT:** I’m surrounded by idiots, please assist

Got your notes from interviews with Cila’Faazha and Del’Haasn on the abuse Thie’Haasn endured during his childhood. With your permission, I’d like to contact Haasn and begin crafting a treatment plan to help with the PTSD this abuse helped create.

On a related note, one of the morons in charge decided it would be a brilliant idea for Madelivio and Han’Seyya to spar. You know Seyya, the really tall one who’s, like, two Aerazl’Xalas across. Yeah. It’s as bad as it sounds. Just when I think working with marines isn’t so bad, something like this happens. Poor kid's down in medical now with a couple facial fractures, a dislocated shoulder, more bruises than I can count with both hands _and_ feet, and a nasty concussion. Probably won't see combat again for a few months. His girlfriend actually requested leave to come sit with him, she's so freaked out about it. Poor girl. Mind yelling at the  _Neema_ jarheads for me? They listen to you a hell of a lot better than they listen to me.

* * *

 

 **TO:** 0-000-135537

 **FROM:** 3-3T2-8448698

 **SUBJECT:** 0-P01-7-6341Q

Considering encouraging 0-T-9-2341N to install a visor camera as well. Attached vid footage suggests it may be needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next three chapters are going to be part of one story arc, and they'll all probably be fairly long. Brace yourselves.


	9. Invasion (Part 1 of 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively titled "Aerazl'Xala and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, Part 1 of 3"

**Galactic Standard Day 7, Week 3, Month 3, Year 2909**

**(Mid Terran Year 2169 CE)**

Xala turned in his seat next to the shuttle pilot, looking back at the rest of the marines. “Right, have you all been briefed?”

There was a series of nods and vague shrugs, and Lila’Yaana piped up, “We got a distress beacon from a turian colony and we’re going to check it out.”

He nodded. “Correct. The Hierarchy has already responded, but told us they’d welcome the assistance. We’re going to land at a smaller settlement away from the main and check on it before we go find the turians. Any questions?”

“Do we have any idea why they sent out the beacon?” Han’Seyya asked, adjusting his grip on his gun.

“Could be slavers,” Lia’Adas said grimly, and Xala heard a series of metallic clanks as she tapped her gun against her thigh.

Axilus, wedged up by the door with smaller marines tucked into the space under his cowl, clicked his mandibles thoughtfully. “If it is, they’ll be desperate. Slavers don’t raid our colonies often, the reward isn’t worth the risk. I hear we fetch a high price, but at the cost of attacking fortified cities with military-grade weaponry in every home, populated by apex predators, and with high odds of Empire response.”

“Maybe pirates, or some really bored mercs,” Donya’Savval suggested.

“Whatever it is, everyone keep your guard up,” Xala said, turning to watch as the shuttle went to land. “We’re here to help the turians, not shoot anything that looks remotely hostile.”

There was a chorus of “yes, sir,” and Xala hopped out of the shuttle. A short walk away, a second shuttle was already unloading, Son’Todor among them. He waved the others over, and once the gaggle of quarians-plus-turian had assembled themselves into one big group, he pulled up his omni-tool, opening communications with the _Neema_ and connecting the channel to the squad radio. “Right, everyone ready?”

Another chorus of affirmatives, and Xala nodded, then turned and headed for the center of the settlement. The shuttles had set them down in a clearing just outside, but it was already more than clear that something was very much not how it should be. The place was dead quiet, and completely still. After a bit, he paused, then turned back to the others. “Something’s not right. Whatever happened, this place got hit. Split up, teams of three, search for anything or anyone who can tell us what’s going on.” He thought for a moment, then added, “Madelivio, with me. I want that nose of yours.”

Axilus nodded and plodded up to him, his helmet already off and clipped at his back. After a moment, Savval joined them, and the group split up.

Walking through the empty prefabs, Xala couldn’t help but notice the way Axilus was moving his head- sharp and jerky, twitching every which way with his jaws parted and mandibles fluttering rapidly. Every so often, he’d let out a short burst of clicks and whistles, then stand stock-still and shut his eyes, twitching his head as he listened.

After ten minutes or so of this, Xala huffed. “Madelivio, what are you doing?”

Axilus chirred and flicked one mandible hard. “This is weird. There’s no… If this was a slaver or pirate raid, I should be able to smell a bunch of blood, yeah? But there isn’t any. Well, I mean, there _is_ blood, but nowhere near as much as there oughta be.”

Xala frowned. Odd. “What _do_ you smell, then?”

Axilus lowered his brow plates, turning his mandibles slowly. “Turians, definitely. Lots of them, of all ages. Panic, fear… Rage. There were small children here, one of them must have gotten in trouble and an adult went berserk. Somebody broke a plate, I think, there’s exposed thulium. And something… I don’t know. It’s no species I’m familiar with.”

Just then, the comm crackled, and Todor’s voice came through. “Aerazl,” he said, voice tight. “Bodies.”

Xala stiffened. “Where are you?”

“Sending coordinates. Ancestors, Aerazl, this doesn’t look good.”

His omni-tool pinged with the new message, and he loaded up the coordinates to his visor display, then trotted off, motioning for Axilus and Savval to follow.

Todor was waiting for them in a little plaza. Behind him, Nahza and Yaana were inspecting two mounds, one distinctly turian and the other so thoroughly mauled Xala couldn’t tell what it used to be.

Beside him, Axilus stiffened. “That’s it!” he said suddenly. “That’s the smell!”

Todor gave him an odd look. “What smell?”

“He’s been smelling something odd all over,” Xala explained, moving so Axilus could brush past him to inspect the bodies. “Any idea what happened?”

Todor shrugged. “Near as we can figure, the turian jumped it, and did a number with his claws. Then it shot him in self-defense, but got shot itself by somebody else.”

By the bodies, Yaana moved aside so Axilus could crouch down and inspect. The turian was snuffling so hard, Xala could hear his nasal plates clicking over the comm. Then, without warning, Axilus hooked a piece of the mauled body with his talons, flipped it into the air, and snapped his head forward to catch it in his mouth.

Xala, Yaana, and Nahza jumped, and Todor turned in time to see Axilus start snapping his jaws to force the meat down his throat. Large pieces fell as he chewed, and from the look on his face, Xala doubted they would be missed. Axilus shook his head and snorted, then reached for one of the pockets at his hip. “Whatever it is, it needs salt. Way too sour.”

“Why the fuck did you eat it?” Savval demanded. “It could have been poisonous!”

Axilus shook his head, pulling a bag of some sort of jerky out of his pocket. “Nah, poison doesn’t smell like that. None that’s toxic to turians, anyway.”

“And how would you know that?”

He grinned, eating a handful of jerky before answering. “Survival training in basic. Part of it, they get samples of every substance in the galaxy known to be toxic to turians, even the ones that’re really rare, and you don’t graduate until you have every single one of them and the signs of their presence memorized.” He ate more jerky, then shrugged. “Besides, it’s still in my gizzard. If anything starts turning bad, I’ll just throw up.”

Savval groaned. “That’s disgusting.”

Axilus grinned cheekily, then went back to inspecting the body. “Anyway, whatever this thing is, it’s no species we know. No biotics, not tangy enough, so it can’t be asari. Not tough enough to be krogan, not stringy enough for drell.” He pointed to one end of the body, where one two-toed foot was still intact. “And that rules out more than you’d think.”

Xala grimaced. “I don’t want to know how you know what the consistency of krogan or drell meat is.”

“Speculation and inference. No hunting sapients, that’s the rule.”

Xala sighed, then adjusted his grip on his gun. “Well, we definitely know there was an attack, by… whatever this thing used to be. Madelivio, any idea where survivors would go?”

Axilus nodded. “There should be a bunker somewhere away from the colony, probably in a place with a lot of cover to hide it.”

“Saw a forest over that-a-ways when we was comin’ in,” Nahza offered, pointing off to the left and ahead of the plaza. “Might be good for hidin’.”

Axilus nodded again. “That’d be perfect.”

Xala nodded. “Right, then we’ll search the forest. Todor, get in contact with the others, see if anybody’s found anything, and tell them to start heading for the forest.”

Todor nodded, and Xala walked a short ways away, then checked to make sure his visor camera was running and opened a private channel. “Han, did you see that?”

Back on the Neema, Han let out a shaky breath. “Keelah se’lai…”

“Do you have any idea what it could be?” Han had had a more adventurous Pilgrimage than most, maybe he knew.

His heart sank as Han answered, “Not a one. Keelah, be _careful_ , Xala.”

“I will, I promise.” He swallowed. “I’ll keep in touch. With any luck, the turians will know more than we do.”

“Good luck.”

Xala felt a lump in his throat form at the fear in Han’s voice, and he cut the private channel, switching back to the squad radio before walking back to Todor and the others.

Todor glanced at him as he approached. “The others will meet us at the tree line.”

“Good, thank you, Son. Everyone ready to go?”

The other four nodded and made various noises of agreement, and Xala took the lead, headed off in the direction Nahza had pointed out. It was a thankfully short trek; they’d been on the side of the colony close to the forest. They’d only just gotten within sight of the trees when Axilus’ head shot up, jaws parted again. He turned his head back and forth a bit, then darted off to their right. Xala paused to watch, frowning slightly. “What is it?”

Axilus sniffed hard, fluttering his mandibles, then looked back at him, eyes bright. “Scent trail, sir. Bunch of adults, mostly, but kids and elders underneath that. Probably a mass exodus after they figured out what was up.”

Xala’s heart lifted slightly. “Can you track it?”

Axilus shrugged, then nodded. “Might get a little harder once we’re in the forest, but there’s so many different scents I should be able to keep up.”

“Then take the lead. You find the colonists, we’ll follow.”

Axilus nodded again and set off at a trot, head flicking occasionally to keep track of the scent trail. Xala and the rest jogged to keep up, pausing only to signal to the other groups waiting for them to follow before heading into the gloom of the forest.

The trees on this planet, or at least in the forest, were tall and bare of branches until a point far above his head. The leaves, from what he could tell, were very broad, and numbered so many they almost completely blocked out the sun, only very rarely letting a tiny speck of light through. Maybe twenty feet into the woods, Xala had to switch on infrared vision, and told the rest of the squadron over the radio to do the same. Madelivio, still unhelmeted, appeared to be getting along just fine, bounding along without a single falter.

Throughout the trek, Xala couldn’t help but feel watched, the back of his neck prickling like mad. It certainly didn’t help that except for the squadron’s footfalls and the clicks and whistles Axilus made periodically, the woods were silent and still as the grave. There wasn’t even a breeze moving the leaves, or a solitary animal talking to itself; other than themselves, it was like the trees and underbrush were the only things alive in the area. He reflexively tightened his grip on his rifle and prayed he was just being paranoid.

He’d lost track of how long they’d been in the forest when Axilus abruptly pulled up short with a cry of disgust. He jumped back, startled, then cursed. “What is it?”

Axilus hopped to one side, nudging something with his foot. “More bodies, sir.” He let out a distressed trill. “I almost _stepped_ in one.”

The others behind them made a chorus of disgusted noises and “ _ewwww_ ”s, and Xala shuddered. “Can you tell what they are?”

He heard some sniffing, then Axilus hopped a bit ahead. “Turians up here. Shot in the back, mostly. Poor guys.” Then he jumped back toward Xala and gestured to the ground just ahead of him. “And here’s more of that weird thing from back at the colony. It’s just a pile of chunks, though. We must be close, we only turn stuff into bullet sponges if we’re panicked.”

Xala let out a long, shaky breath, steeling himself, then nodded. “Right.” He glanced back at the others, noticing with some relief that everyone who’d come to the colony had caught up during the trek. “Fan out, see what you can find. We’re looking for a bunker, anything that could possibly hide a lot of turians. Be careful, these people are going to be scared and won’t appreciate guns being waved in their faces.”

An affirmative murmur rippled through the group, and they slowly dispersed. A shape he eventually recognized as Haasn came up to walk next to Axilus, and the pair started slowly heading forward, sweeping for more bodies.

Xala was just about to head off in another direction when he heard a dual-toned voice bark, _“Freeze!”_ and an immediate noise like a drive core starting up.

He spun around to see Haasn’s shape ablaze with biotics, and he hastily turned the flashlight on his gun on to point ahead just as Haasn said, “Spirits, wait, it’s a turian,” and release the stasis field he’d put up.

In the flashlight beam, a young-looking brown turian with gold facepaint dropped the battered assault rifle he’d been carrying, putting up an arm to shield his eyes. “H-hey, cut it out!” he complained, mandibles held tight to his face. “I-I’m sorry! I th-th-th… th-th… th- _thought_ you were m-more of th-those _things!”_

Axilus and Haasn looked at each other, then Axilus said, “It’s alright, swear. We’ve been coming through the forest for the last… I don’t know, but we haven’t run into anything but a bunch of corpses. Who are you?”

“You f-f-fir, f-first,” the other turian challenged.

Xala stepped forward, holding up his hands. “Commander Aerazl’Xala vas _Neema_ , Migrant Fleet Marines,” he introduced himself. “We received a distress signal from the colony here, and the Hierarchy deployment at the main settlement asked us to investigate the outskirts. This is Thie’Haasn vas _Tonbay_ and Axilus Madelivio.”

The turian slowly lowered his arm, then reached for the gun he’d dropped. “Thazix Aqui’il,” he said. “My mom’s in charge of the littler settlement back there. She’s in the bunker, trying to keep everyone calm. I’m… I’m s’posed to go to basic in a couple months, I don’t- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Axilus’ subvocals thrummed. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re fine, it’s dark in here, and anybody would be scared of a bunch of feet coming through the forest like we did.”

“I just…”

“It’s fine, I promise,” Axilus said gently. “If you really feel the need to make up for it, can you show us the way to the bunker? We’ll talk to your mom and the others, see if we can’t get a better picture of what’s going on, and then we can escort everyone back to the main settlement for safety.”

“I… Yeah, okay, I can do that.” Thazix nodded. “Do… Do you guys need your group to get back?”

“Yes, but it should only be a moment,” Xala said, already pulling up his omni-tool to alert everyone. “If you don’t mind waiting.”

Thazix nodded shakily, and Xala watched him out of the corner of his eye as he typed in the command. The younger turian edged his way over to Axilus, mandibles fluttering anxiously until he was within arm’s reach. Then he almost seemed to relax entirely, shoulders drooping and mandibles going still.

Xala smiled to himself. How cute.

Slowly, the group reformed, and Thazix led them deeper into the woods. Xala noted with more than a little relief that the forest felt a lot less imposing now that they’d found another living creature; there were survivors, they weren’t far, they weren’t alone out here.

The bunker was built mostly into the ground, only a small portion visible, and even that had been covered with debris from the forest to hide it more thoroughly. Thazix led them down a flight of stairs, then hesitantly knocked on a door painted with camouflage.

The door opened before the kid was done knocking, and for a moment, all Xala could see was the barrel of what looked to be a very high-power rifle being shoved out. Then it was lowered, revealing a slate-gray crestless turian wielding it. “Spirits, Thazix,” she breathed, reaching out and yanking the kid to her.

Thazix grunted. “Hi, Mari,” he mumbled, neck turning faintly blue.

Thazix’s mother nuzzled the top of his head, then pulled him away and gave him a stern look. “You said you’d be right back,” she scolded. “What happened?”

Xala took that as his cue to clear his throat, and the crestless looked up at him, mandibles dropping. Her eyes went wide for just a moment, then narrowed as she barked, “Who are you? What do you want?”

“It’s okay, Mari,” Thazix said, his words muffled somewhat by his mother’s cowl. “They’re here to help.”

Xala nodded and held out a hand. “Commander Aerazl’Xala vas _Neema_. We came from the settlement back that way. We were in the area when the main colony sent out a distress beacon, and the Hierarchy agreed to let us help.

The woman eyed him warily, then slowly shook his hand. “Nykima Aqui’il. How many of you are there?”

“Three squads, ma’am. Enough to fill two shuttles.”

She nodded slowly to herself, then pushed Thazix behind her. “Go sit down,” she ordered. “Your heart’s going a mile a minute.”

“But, Mari-!”

“ _Now_ , Thazix. Look after your sister, I just got her to go down for a nap.”

Thazix muttered mutinously but obeyed, vanishing into the bunker, and his mother closed the door behind him before turning back to Xala and folding her arms. “What did you find?”

Xala took a deep breath. “Bodies,” he told her. “Several. Turian and something else.”

She closed her eyes and let out a slow breath. “I expected as much.”

He nodded. “What happened here?”

She sighed, looking down at her feet. “They came out of nowhere. First these weird bug things that tried to sting us, but only got a couple. Plates are hard to pierce, and we defend our necks instinctively. Then the walkers. Ugly things. Never seen ’em before in my life. Four eyes, this weird thing that looked like a crest but wasn’t…” She shuddered. “The elders took the children and came here first. Then the rest of the colony after we’d shot a bunch to pieces and figured out they weren’t stopping. Tell me, did you… Did you find anyone who looked a bit like Thazix, but older and lighter-plated?”

Xala hesitated, thinking through the bodies they’d run into since arrival. He was about to say no when he remembered the body back at the plaza- bronze-plated, with gold facepaint- and his heart dropped into his stomach. He nodded slowly, and her hands flew to her face. “I’m very sorry,” he murmured.

“Spirits, I… No, no, no,” she moaned, closing her eyes and snapping her mandibles to her face. “Not Arnixen, spirits, no…”

“Your son?” he asked quietly.

She nodded. “My second-oldest… Twenty-four, he was home on leave… Spirits, how am I supposed to tell the others?”

“How many other children do you have?”

She swallowed. “Four. Thazix you’ve met. My oldest, Adarian, finishes mandatory this year, then there was Arnixen, then Lenaria’s eighteen, and Aeloxia’s only two. My husband and I were planning on another child, but…”

Behind Xala, Nahza whistled. “Five kids, an’ the oldest is thirty? Damn.”

Nykima managed a small smile. “Turians have a big window of opportunity,” she said dryly. “Stay fertile ’til we’re in our nineties, sometimes later depending on genetics. Not recommended to be having kids that late, but hey, I’m only sixty-two.”

Xala bit his lip. “He took one down with him, if it’s any consolation. We found him next to a corpse that was mauled to shreds.”

She smiled sadly. “That’s my Nixi. Always was a brawler.”

He hesitated, then gently said, “I know you probably want time to mourn your son, but it’s not safe to stay here for long. We have enough guns between us to escort your people to the main settlement.”

Nykima thought about this, then nodded. “Suppose you’re right. Give me ten minutes to get everyone ready.”

Xala nodded and drew back from the bunker, watching as Nykima went back inside. The squadron waited in silence for a bit, then over the comm, Han cleared his throat. “So, is it just me, or did Haasn say ‘spirits’ a few minutes ago?”

Haasn stiffened, then sputtered, “I did not!”

Axilus hummed. “Iunno, Thie, it sure sounded like ‘spirits’ to me.”

“You’re a turian, you’re biased.”

“Am not. It sounded like ‘spirits’ to you guys, too, right?”

There was a chorus of agreement, and Xala saw Haasn start to flush ever-so-faintly behind his visor. “You’re all ridiculous and I hate you,” he muttered.

Xala smiled in spite of himself, and a ripple of laughter went through the squadron. The group took that as a cue to start swapping jokes and teasing each other, and they all slowly relaxed, so by the time the turians were starting to file out of the bunker, the whole place felt just a little less dark and unwelcoming.

They set off for the main settlement with the quarians in a circle around the turians, some helping to carry younger children who couldn’t quite make it on foot just yet, others keeping pace with elders who couldn’t keep up as well as the adults in their prime. Nykima assured them they were already halfway through the woods, and there wasn’t far to go; there shouldn’t be anything else beyond the bunker.

So naturally, maybe five minutes after setting off, a deep, booming voice roared, **_“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?”_**

To say the reaction was a lot of screaming would do it a disservice. In fact, there was a lot of screaming, jumping, and panicked fumbling for weapons, and it wasn’t until Xala’s heart had climbed back down out of his throat that he realized that the roar had been replaced by a delighted laugh.

He shone his flashlight around, finally alighting on a tiny brown crestless turian nearly doubled over in laughter. “Spirits, that was better than when I got _Pari!”_

He panted, watching her straighten up and unclip a small rectangle from her throat before asking, “And who might you be?”

She grinned, snapping a sharp salute. “Private First Class Calvetorin Sparatus, sir. You the quarians the general said to look out for?”

“Sparatus?” Axilus said, stepping forward cautiously. “As in the councilor?”

“Yep!” she chirped. “He’s my dad.”

Somewhere behind Calvetorin, there was a rustling, then a grumble. “Spirits, Cal, don’t just run off…” Then a pause, then another turian stepped into the light. “Ax?”

Axilus froze, then asked incredulously, “Szar?”

Calvetorin glanced between them, one mandible lowered, then folded her arms. “You know each other?”

Szarus nodded. “Cal, this is Axilus Madelivio. We trained together.”

Calvetorin’s mandibles flicked hard. “Wait, so then he’s..?”

Szarus nodded, and Calvetorin grinned. “Ohhhh, she’s gonna _flip_.”

“Don’t remind me,” Szarus grumbled. “You run ahead, let the commander and the general know we found everybody. I’ll stick with them.”

She snapped a quick salute, then darted off, leaving Szarus to talk with the quarians and colonists.

* * *

 

Spirits, she hated patrols. She had to take it slow, don’t go too fast, don’t leave your buddy behind. It was so _annoying_. She operated _so_ much better at high speed, running as fast as her legs could carry her. She’d gotten her mother’s size and build, her grandmother had always said, except for the legs. She had her father’s legs. Tiny and slender, with long legs best suited to marathon sprinting. The group she’d left behind would be walking for ages, but she got back to base in ten minutes flat.

She’d almost blown straight through the first third of the settlement when a sudden hand on her arm almost knocked her clean off her feet.

She twisted and looked back, then scowled to see her older brother giving her a curious yet disapproving look. “And where are you going?” Verres drawled, mandibles flicking.

She huffed. “I found somethin’ and I gotta go tell the commander and leggo!”

“No. Slow down.”

She huffed. Of course it had to be _Verres_ she had to work with, of her two brothers. She could handle Areus’ laziness. But Verres was _bossy_ , and she _hated_ bossiness. There was a big difference between her parents telling her what to do, or her CO, and her _brother_. Didn’t matter if he was a sergeant or not, he was still annoying. “Me and Valerian were out scouting for those quarians who’re supposed to come in and we found them and I gotta go tell the commander and let _go!_ ”

She yanked on her arm, but Verres held tight, and she huffed. “I’m gonna tell Pari you’re not letting me do what I’m s’posed to.”

“What are you, two?”

She sniffed, then tried to yank her arm free again. “Well, it would make you five.”

“What’s going on here?” came a voice behind her, and Calvetorin’s mandibles dropped as she turned to see Commander Caheen Nieght herself pacing up to them. “Why are you squabbling like children?”

Verres immediately dropped her arm, and she snapped to a salute. “Commander Nieght, ma’am! Me and Sergeant Valerian found the quarians, ma’am! He’s escorting them back here, ma’am! I was told to run ahead and tell you and General Oraka, ma’am!”

Nieght quirked a mandible. “Easy, private. Thanks for telling me. Go tell the next patrol to head out, then grab lunch. I’ll tell the general what you said.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She waited for Nieght to walk off, then stuck her tongue out at her brother before darting off again, jaws parted to try and track down a particular scent. She had a quick stop to make before she’d do what the commander said.

Master Sergeant Domitiana was hanging around by the makeshift armory, chatting with Corporal Aelianus and Gunnery Sergeant Caestero. It was their usual haunt, but they’d been known to drift away and take up residence elsewhere in camp, so it never hurt to check. The trio glanced up when she approached, and Freiya quirked a mandible. “Hey, Callie,” she hummed. “Need something?”

She smiled, clasping her hands behind her back and rocking on the balls of her feet. “Just thought you should know your boyfriend’s here.”

Freiya’s mandibles dropped immediately. “What.”

“Me and Szarus ran into him with a bunch of quarians off in the forest. They should be almost here by now.”

Aelianus looked like she’d been given a gift. “Ooh, somebody’s boyfriend’s in _trouble_ ,” she singsonged.

Freiya’s eyes were almost murderous, but she grinned. “Shut it, Vee,” she said, “or I’ll shove your mandibles down your throat.”

Aelianus snickered, and Calvetorin said innocently, “ _Your_ boyfriend’s there, too.”

Aelianus’ eyes took on a steely glint. “What’s he doing there?”

“Keeping an eye on the quarians. And Freiya’s bad-boy boyfriend.”

Without any further prompting, Aelianus turned on her heel and started stalking off. “Coming, Fey?”

“Right behind you.”

Viridus watched the two females go for a moment, then sighed and shook his head. “I better go make sure they don’t kill anyone,” he grumbled, starting to lope after them.

Calvetorin smiled, then trotted off to go find the next patrol. This was going to be an interesting day.

* * *

 

Axilus and the rest of the group had only just reached the edge of the forest when a sudden blow to his chest sent him sprawling backwards with a squawk.

He shook his head and started to get up, only to be pressed back down. He scowled and squinted up, mentally cursing whatever it was for attacking at high noon, then blinked, eyes going wide and mandibles dropping. “Spirits.”

Freiya grinned down at him, and he was suddenly keenly aware of the knee between his legs and pressed against his crotch. “So, Axi,” she practically purred, “how’ve you been?”

He swallowed, peripheral vision informing him that the quarians and other turians were gathering around them. “Uh, could we maybe talk later? Like, once you’re off me?”

She snickered. “Sorry. There’s a toll.”

“Freiya, I’m not giving you money to get off me.”

“That’s fine.” She fluttered her mandibles at him, then leaned down and, without further ado, pressed their noses together, reaching forward with her mandibles.

 _Oh_.

It was nice to kiss another turian again, he had to admit. Kissing Thie’s helmet just wasn’t the same as kissing Freiya. But something was different, somehow, from that last kiss they’d had before he’d followed Thie to the Citadel. The hands running down his arms and the hips pressing him down into place felt more authoritative, more demanding, more… _possessive_ , almost but not quite.

She was just glad that he was alive and safe, he told himself firmly, ignoring the half-formed word in the back of his mind that he wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ acknowledge. They were still far too young for that sort of thing.

After a moment, there was a cough, and Freiya broke it off, looking behind her. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

She clambered off him, and he sat up, rubbing his head. “Did you have to knock me to the ground?” he complained, scowling up at her.

She smirked. “Of course. Now don’t be rude, get up and say hello.”

He grumbled and started to get up, muttering mutinously under his breath, before her last three words registered and he craned his neck to see behind her.

He scrambled to his feet and made a beeline for his friends, headbutting Vreena affectionately when he got there. “Guys! I wasn’t- I didn’t think any of you would be here!”

Vreena laughed. “How do you think _we_ feel? Commander said a bunch of quarians would be showing up, not _you_.”

Viridus flared a mandible. “So if you’re with the quarians, I’m guessing Haasn is..?”

There was a slight commotion behind them, and Axilus turned to see Thie pushing his way out of the crowd. “Right here,” he grumbled, plodding up to the little group.

Within seconds, Freiya had Thie in a headlock, and was planting a big kiss right on his visor. “Thanks for looking after the big lug for me,” she said cheerfully.

Thie stopped moving, eyes going wide. He was quiet for a moment, and Axilus snickered. “Easy, Freiya,” he teased. “Even after having sex a few times, he’s still the biggest virgin you’ll ever meet. You have to go slow with him.”

Freiya fluttered her mandibles at him. “That’s no fun. And it didn’t work on _you_.”

“ _I_ was oblivious, but game. _He_ is oblivious, but shy.”

Behind him, somebody cleared their throat, and he heard Xala say, “Do you mind?”

He fluttered his mandibles sheepishly and turned to him, bobbing his head. “Sorry, sir.” He glanced at his friends, gesturing to Xala. “Guys, this is Commander Aerazl’Xala vas _Neema_. He’s in charge of the mission.”

Freiya nodded respectfully. “Master Sergeant Freiya Domitiana, sir. This is Corporal Vreena Aelianus and Gunnery Sergeant Viridus Caestero.”

Xala nodded in return. “Well met, Sergeant. If you don’t mind, we have a lot of people who need to get back to the main settlement for their own safety.”

“Of course, sir. It’s this way.”

Freiya turned and headed off, and Axilus fell into step with his friends after her like he’d never left their ranks. Szarus and Viridus walked on either side of him, Vreena just behind, and Freiya a few paces ahead. After a moment, Thie weaved in to walk between him and Viridus, and Axilus grinned, nudging him with his shoulder.

After about a minute of walking, he cleared his throat. “So you’ve all gotten promotions, then?”

“Uh-huh,” Vreena said. “Guess who’s all planning on being lifers.”

“Except Szarus,” Viridus said, subvocals amused. “I heard _he’s_ being scouted to be a Spectre.”

Axilus snapped his head around to look at Szarus, mandibles wide. “Dude, seriously?”

Szarus ducked his head, neck flushing. “Just for the training,” he mumbled. “And we only _think_ that’s what’s going on.”

Viridus snickered. “Cal and her brother Verres came back from leave a couple weeks ago saying their dad mentioned him. I think we can guess what’s up, Szar.”

“The _councilor_ knows your _name_ , Szar,” Vreena trilled. “You’re good as accepted already.”

“I am not. You’re all terrible.”

It was soothing to walk with his friends and catch up, Axilus found. He liked his friends among the quarians, but they didn’t have quite the same feeling as he got from turians. There was no pack mentality for quarians. He didn’t really have the words to describe it, but there was definitely a difference between a gang and a pack, and he’d missed feeling like part of a pack.

He was more than a little relieved to see the pack was perfectly willing to make room for Thie, happily letting him join their conversation when he could and engaging him when the topic was something he could understand. Thie wasn’t a turian, but pack wasn’t picky.

Finding out who was in charge of the turian side of the mission, on the other hand…

“What do you _mean_ , ‘Commander Nieght’?” he squawked, mandibles fluttering wildly.

Freiya laughed. “It’s cool, Ax. I don’t think she’s going to have your head or anything.”

“Freiya, that is the _last_ person I want to ever work under again, after she kicked me off the _Anchrivos_.”

“What about General Oraka?” Vreena asked, and Axilus was pretty sure his brain short-circuited.

Viridus snorted. “I think the general’s higher on his list.”

He let out a high keen. “Not funny! He and my granddad are _really_ close, I don’t want him to make any reports!”

“Chill, Ax, the general’s cool. His _husband_ , on the other hand…”

He squeaked, and his friends laughed. Even Thie, the traitor.

“You worry too much, Ax,” Freiya said. “The admiral’s up in orbit, and I don’t think the general will say anything bad unless you _do_ anything bad. He’s grumpy, but he’s not an ass.”

Axilus grumbled and lowered his head into his cowl. “What are the fucking odds…”

* * *

 

To say Xala was relieved to learn the main settlement was bustling with life was an understatement. He was overjoyed, pacified, delighted. Normally, he liked peace and quiet, but frankly, he’d gotten his fill of that in the woods. After the complete lack of ambient sound in the forest, the activity of the settlement was a welcome change.

The turian sergeants pointed him in the direction of main command, then peeled off, taking the other colonists with them to go find shelter for everyone. After conferring with Lia and Todor for a few minutes, he told the rest of the quarians to go ahead and find somewhere to rest for the time being, then headed on to command with Todor and Lia falling into step behind him.

Commander Nieght was easy to recognize from Axilus’ description, with distinctive asymmetrical black markings and plates of a sort of washed-out tan color. She was the one to greet them at the door to the little tent being used for central command, and within minutes had offered them MREs. “If you’re anything like the quarian we had on the _Anchrivos_ , you’ll want these,” she said, somewhat cheerfully.

Xala raised a brow. “So you’re Commander Nieght?”

“Oh, you’ve heard of me.” She chuckled. “Either my sergeants are doing their jobs, or you have what’s-his-name with you.” She paused, then added with a shrug, “Or both.”

“Haasn?”

“Yeah, him. Is he here?”

He nodded. “He went off with Madelivio and the other turians.”

“Dang. Wait, so Axilus is here, too? Wait, no, I shouldn’t be surprised. Kid practically glued himself to Haasn’s side once he woke up.”

Lia snickered somewhere behind him, and Nieght quirked a mandible. “Come in, anyway. You’re just in time, we’ve got something for you to take a look at.”

As he followed Nieght inside, the comm crackled to life. “Xala, something’s up with Todor,” Han said quietly. “Is he doing alright?”

Xala bit his lip. Dammit, not now… “I don’t know. You know how he gets about slavers.”

“Are you still sure it’s slavers? That story the turian lady told didn’t sound like slavers.”

“Right now, it’s the closest thing we have to a logical explanation. I have to go, Han, we’ll talk in a few minutes.”

“Of course.”

Nieght led them over to a tall but slender turian with a familiar insignia on his shoulder. “Commander Xala, this is General Septimus Oraka,” she said, with a respectful little bow to the other turian. “General, Commander Aerazl’Xala vas _Neema_ , Commander Son’Todor vas _Nuok_ , and Lieutenant Lia’Adas vas _Nuok_.”

Oraka bobbed his head, clasping his hands behind his back. “Well met, Commander. Wish it could be under better circumstances.”

Xala nodded. “Likewise, General. I hope you have a better idea of what’s going on than we do.”

“As a matter of fact…”

Oraka and Nieght exchanged a look, then Nieght padded off out of sight as Oraka continued, “I assume you’ve seen the bodies lying around?”

“Yes, sir. Turians and a lot of unidentifiable muck.”

Oraka nodded. “One of our scouts managed to make a kill without destroying the body, and brought it back for investigation.”

Nieght reappeared with what was definitely a body bag over one shoulder, dropping it at the general’s feet and crouching to unzip it. “Might want to hold your breath, or… whatever it is you people do so you won’t smell. Thing reeks.”

Han was muttering in his ear again. “Xala, Todor’s _really_ not looking good…”

Whatever Han had to say was drowned out by Nieght unzipping the body bag, revealing a limp, bulbous head with four off-white eyes bulging out of their sockets, covered in a scaly, dark brown carapace.

“Aaaaand there he goes,” Han said dryly over the comm as a _thud_ sounded behind Xala. "Shit."

Xala paid him no mind, thoughts racing. The… _thing_ staring up at him was something he could only recall seeing grainy, unfocused security footage of on extranet conspiracy sites. “Keelah,” he breathed. “Is that..?”

Oraka nodded, mandibles held tight to his face. “It’s the only possibility we can think of. Commander, we’re dealing with Collectors.”

* * *

 

 **TO:** ALL UNITS

 **FROM:** 0-000-1

 **SUBJECT:** ALERT

All units on high alert until further notice. Threat alert level 1A. Be on lookout for any anomalous activity. This is not a drill. Repeat, threat alert level 1A. This is not a drill.


	10. Retaliation (Part 2 of 3)

**Galactic Standard Day 7, Week 3, Month 3, Year 2909**

**(Mid Terran Year 2169 CE)**

“So turns out the thing in the box was this, like, _nuke gun_ , right,” Axilus was telling the gaggle of turians-plus-Thie who had clustered in the mess hall to hang out, “and they gave it to this one engineer to work on. And like, maybe a month or two ago, Iunno, time passes funny on the Fleet, you don’t really notice it going by-”

“Stay focused, Ax,” Freiya said, taking a sip of the cocktail of energy drinks she’d thrown together and making a face.

He waved a hand at her. “I know, I know. So anyway, a month or two ago, we get word that the engie who’s working on it needs a test-run, make sure everything’s coming together right. Gerrel- Admiral Gerrel, I mean, he’s cool, real friendly- he wanted to go down and test-fire it himself _so bad_ , but he had this cough, and his husband- Commander Xala, you met him, nice guy- wouldn’t let him leave the ship, and he was _so_ upset over it, like he was begging and pleading and following Xala around whining at him in between coughing fits, it was kinda sad but in a funny way, y’know?”

“Didja get vid?” Vreena asked, leaning across the table a little.

He grinned and nodded, pulling up his omni-tool. “Savval- Donya'Savval, she’s the one with the robot arm, I hear she caught a grenade in the most literal sense of the term possible- took vid for the records and sent it to everybody for posterity.”

He pulled up the vid and angled his omni-tool so everybody could see the explosion that, once it had cleared, had rendered a crashed ship blocking their way completely nonexistent, fluttering his mandibles in amusement at the awed look on their faces. “Yeah, I know, right?”

Calvetorin whistled and elbowed her brother. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Verres nodded. “We need one of those so we can shoot Aunt Lilis.”

Next to Axilus, Thazix, who had been hanging around like a lost varren, choked slightly on his drink. “Why do you want to do that to your aunt?”

Calvetorin flared her mandibles, tilting her head up. “She made my mom cry, an’ that’s unforgiveable. I wanted to punch her, but Pari said no.”

Verres nudged her gently with his shoulder, then bobbed his head towards Thazix. “Our mom’s sister isn’t a good person. A while back, we went to a family thing with Mari, and Lilis said... What did she say?”

Calvetorin snorted sharply. “She said Mari was breeding stock. Y'know, like Pari only married her so she'd pop out a bunch of kids for him. Mari got so upset, she took us home right away, and told Pari, and then Pari lawyered the shit out of Lilis."

Verres rolled his eyes. “She means Pari took Lilis to court for intentional infliction of emotional distress. He was just after a restraining order, but the courts slapped Lilis with this big fine.”

Axilus blinked and fluttered his mandibles. “Hey, I remember that, it was all over the news. He did the prosecution himself, didn’t he?”

Verres nodded, thrumming a proud subvocal. “We were in school, so we didn't get to watch court proceedings, but Mari said Pari tore them both new ones, and he was, like, _this_ close to doing it literally.” He coughed into his fist. "We, uh, we haven't gone back to any stuff with Mari's side of the family."

“But that's not really a problem,” Calvetorin concluded cheerfully, mandibles quirking up and out. “They were kinda boring and stuffy, anyway. And Aunt Lilis isn’t allowed anywhere near Mari. Like, the judge gave Pari the restraining order, sure, but then after court, Pari got in her face and told her to," she sucked in her breath and puffed out her chest, making an obvious effort at a scary face, "'stay the hell away from Teia, you fucking demon, or I'll rip your mandibles off and shove them so far up your ass you'll feel them poking your eyeballs.'" She deflated with a puff of air and added, "Those might not be his exact words."

Axilus opened his mouth to respond, but instead jumped slightly at a tug on the back of his shirt and a small squeak.

He twisted around, then turned fully when he realized the source. A small dark brown turian chick, probably no older than three or four, stood behind him, eyes wide and stubby mandibles perked up in a smile. “Well, hi,” he said, holding out a talon for the kid. “Who are you?”

The kid inspected his talon, which was easily the size of one of his little hands, then looked up at him and chirped. “Arkih!”

Off to one side, Freiya chuckled. “That’s Sarquis. His family lives here in the main settlement. He likes to wander around and say hi to everybody.”

Sarquis raised his arms, and Axilus picked him up, settling him in his lap. “Where’s his parents?”

“Off-world. His uncle’s babysitting, but he’s, like, completely blind, so Sar wanders off a lot.”

Axilus gave Sarquis half of the sandwich he’d been eating, grinning when the nestling all but attacked it with his face. “He’s cute.”

Viridus, sitting across the table from Freiya, cocked a mandible. “Thinking of your own yet, Ax?”

Before Axilus had a chance to do more than sputter, Freiya tossed her drink in Viridus’ face, scowling as he yelped. “Don’t tease him,” she scolded.

Viridus shook his head, scattering droplets of energy drink everywhere, before complaining, “Oh, come on, what are friends for?”

“Not for scaring the commitment-impaired, Viri.”

Axilus yelped. “Hey!”

“Ax, we’ve been over this, everyone and their grandmother knows you have commitment issues.”

“I’m _twenty!”_

“And you’ve known me since you were two weeks.” She waggled her mandibles. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re adorable with kids, but first you have to actually be ready for some of your own, and the first step to that is wanting to settle down.”

“Didn’t you literally just say you weren’t going to scare me with shit like that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Chill, Ax.”

Axilus huffed, then flicked his mandibles as he heard a voice call out, “Sarquis? Sarquis Vyctian!”

In his lap, Sarquis perked up, looking around. “Hera?”

Freiya shook her head slightly and craned her neck. “Oh, the old man’s here. I’ll bring him over so he doesn’t trip over anything.”

While she got up, Sarquis squirmed in Axilus’ lap. “Hera! Hera!”

“Hey, cool it, kiddo,” Axilus said, grabbing him before he could fall. “He’ll be here in a sec.”

He heard snuffling, then the voice from earlier sounded, much closer and now visibly coming from a dark gray turian with blue facepaint. “Sarquis, there you are,” he said, subvocals thrumming. “Come here.”

He tapped his leg, and Axilus let Sarquis get down and run over to him, chirping happily. He fluttered his mandibles, tilting his head. “So you’re Hera?”

“ _Herus_ ,” he corrected. “Herus Ikunian. Sar can’t make the ‘s’ sound yet.” He chuckled and picked Sarquis up, settling him on his hip before adding, “Which is a shame, since his name starts and ends with it.”

“Hera!” Sarquis said, underdeveloped subvocals clumsily thrumming with delight.

Herus smiled and scratched behind Sarquis’ mandibles. “Yes, hello, Sar. Do you want something?”

Sarquis headbutted him affectionately, repeating his name again. Herus flicked a mandible good-naturedly and turned his head back towards the group, eyes unfocused and looking off above their heads. “That probably means it’s naptime. Thanks for humoring him.”

Axilus shrugged. “No problem. He’s cute.”

Herus puffed up slightly, then turned and started walking off. “I’ll tell my sister you said that. You kids stay safe.”

Axilus watched Herus walk off, so closely he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him and, naturally, jumped out of his plates when a voice sounded off to his right.

“While I’m glad you’re all making friends, social hour’s over,” Commander Nieght said, her arms tucked behind her when Axilus turned to look. “The attacks only come at night lately, so the general wants to get ready while the sun’s still over the horizon. The quarians will be splitting up and integrating with our units for the time being. Arm up, pick squads, and be ready to move.”

* * *

 

If there was one thing Lia could appreciate about the turians, it was their efficiency. While she prowled the outskirts of the settlement on patrol, she saw soldiers and civilians alike working together to shore up barricades, repair floodlights, carry supplies from the warehouses near the edge to large homes closer to the center, and other such things.

She knew turians considered war an art form. It was just a bit unnerving to see them put it into practice up close and personal.

The patrols, according to General Oraka, would serve as early-warning, in case the Collectors decided to try and take them by surprise while they were still out and about. There were five patrol squads, with four running at once and the fifth rotating in so everyone could get rest. With the sun maybe a finger’s width above the horizon, Lia and the squad she was working with were on rest, and had pulled up a patch of grass within a few bounding strides of the nearest building. It was a pretty little colony, she had to admit. The almost-sunset was gorgeous, and there was just enough of a breeze to make the tree branches above her head whisper and rattle. Lying back in the grass, it was tall enough to shroud her twice over, long stalks waving peacefully in the breeze.

It was almost enough to make her forget the mess they’d all found themselves in.

A thought struck her, elbowing the whole situation out of the way in favor of an impulse. Pulling out her omni-tool, she held it over her face and turned on the camera, angling it so she could see her own face looking back at her. She lowered the opacity of her mask so as much of her face was visible as possible, then hit ‘record’ and smiled.

“Hi, Kael,” she cooed to the camera. “Mommy’s doing okay. I hope you’re being good for Elani. It’s so pretty here, Kael, you’d love it. Here.”

She sat up and switched to the back camera, slowly moving her arm around to capture the scenery in front of her. “I wish you could come down here, Kael, it’s so beautiful. Can you see the flowers over there? The yellow ones? What about that little pond over there? I can hear the little animals from here, what about you?”

She continued in that vein for a few minutes, pointing out things Kael might like. At one point, colorful insects burst out of the grass not far from her, temporarily filling the camera’s view with bright flashes of iridescence. Hopefully that wouldn’t upset Kael. He wasn’t fond of bugs, near as she could tell, but he did like bright colors.

Once she figured she had enough footage, she turned the camera back to herself and smiled. “Pretty, right? Mommy and Daddy will be back soon, be good for Elani until then, okay? Remember, Mommy loves you very much. I’ll see you when we get back.”

She stopped the recording, and while she typed out a note to Elani asking her to show Kael the vid, one of the turians from the squad came trotting up. She didn’t know his actual name; the others just called him “Show-off.” “What was that about?” he asked, head tilted to one side.

She sent the message, then shrugged. “Oh, nothing. My one-year-old likes pretty things, ’s all.

He blinked, then tilted his head the other way, mandibles fluttering. “So you guys come in little sizes?”

She frowned slightly. “What? Something must’ve translated weird.”

He held up his hands. “Sorry, ’s just, it never really clicked that quarians would have kids, y’know? Only ever see you big ones.”

She scowled. “What, so just because you’ve never seen a quarian kid, you thought we just, what, pop into existence full-grown?”

“Well, I mean-”

“Hey, hey,” interrupted the turian in charge of the squad, a lanky steel-gray who had introduced himself as Larsius Victrilian, hopping up and darting over. “Drueus didn’t mean anything by it, ma’am. Didja, dipshit?”

“W-” Drueus grunted sharply as Larsius elbowed him where his cowl met his torso. After a few seconds of high-pitched pained noises, he shook his head. “No, sir, didn’t mean nothing. My mistake, ma’am, won’t happen again, ma’am.”

She frowned, but had to peel her attention away from the turians when her comm crackled. “Patrol units, this is Commander Nieght,” came the voice on the other end. “Sun’s almost down. All of you are to return to the main settlement and help with last-minute preparations. A watch will be posted around the settlement to take your place. Understood?”

Larsius glanced around, making sure everyone had heard, then put a hand to his head. “Patrol unit Dekal. All clear here, ma’am. We’ll go give them a hand with the storehouses.”

“Thanks, Dekal. Get on it.”

Larsius nodded to himself, then made a hand motion to the other turians. “Come on, you wastes of sentience. Time to put those muscles you’re always flexing to good use.”

The other turians gradually got up and trotted over, and the two quarians who had joined them along with Lia followed shortly after. Larsius explained the new orders, then, as the group started straggling back towards the storehouses, fell into step next to Lia, keeping his strides short so she could keep up. “Sorry about Drueus, ma’am,” he said, flicking his mandibles out. “You could make a whole new class of computer program outta him. An artificial _un_ intelligence.”

Lia raised an eyebrow, darkening her mask again now that they were walking into the sun. “They grow them stupid in your neighborhood, don’t they?”

“And they grow them gorgeous in yours.”

“Woah, now, soldier, I’m married and not into turians.”

His neck turned a faint shade of blue. “I, uh… Sorry, ma’am. Casual flirting’s kind of a cultural pastime. Won’t happen again.”

“Well, that explains Madelivio.”

Larsius snorted, mandibles fluttering, then tilted his head as they approached a storehouse that already had a squad clustered around the door. “What’s going on here?”

One turian, crouched by the holo-lock and off to one side of the door, glanced up briefly, then went back to fiddling with his omni-tool. “Lock’s jammed, sir. Working on an override, but the tech’s old, so it’s slow going.”

Lia folded her arms. “Have you tried blunt force?”

A turian leaning against the wall next to the first flicked a mandible hard. “We _could_ , but we don’t think the colonists would appreciate us breaking their stuff,” she deadpanned.

“Then allow me.” She cracked her knuckles for dramatic effect, and was about to make her way up to the door when she heard thudding footsteps.

She glanced up just as Son skidded to a halt next to her, putting a hand on her arm. “Lia, _wait_ ,” he said, ignoring the bewildered looks he was getting from the pack of turians who didn’t appear to know where he’d come from. “Don’t break the door down.”

“I wasn’t _gonna_ ,” she protested. “Just, y’know. Beat it open.”

He groaned. “Here, you know what? Let me try.”

He looked at the lock, then glanced between himself and the door for a bit before squaring up, picking up one leg, and kicking the door right in the center of the lock.

The door gave a high-pitched whine, then slid open, and Son nodded to himself before looking back at her. “See?”

She snorted. “Show-off. Where did you even come from?”

He shuffled a bit. “I was helping carry supplies and heard you over Vallius’ comm,” he said sheepishly, with a nod to the turian who’d been working on an override.

The turian rolled his eyes and fluttered his mandibles, then got to his feet. “I’ll take a look at that lock later,” he grumbled. “It’ll be broken now, but holo-locks are quick fixes.”

Lia raised a brow at him, stepping aside as turians started to head into the storehouse to gather supplies. “I wouldn’t have broken it _that_ bad. You have no faith in me.”

“I have no faith in your restraint, more like,” he said, nudging her teasingly with his shoulder. “Come on. Aerazl suggested we get a couple groups together and help keep watch. IR will let us keep working after dark. Savval, Nahza, and Seyya are in, and Axilus and Haasn said they’d bring some turian friends for hearing and smell support. Eyes don’t catch everything, and all.”

“How many friends are we talking?”

He just shrugged, and she sighed. “Only one way to find out, I guess.”

The others were waiting for them near the main entrance to the settlement. Like Son had said, Madelivio and Haasn had brought along a few other turians, one with a crest and two without. Savval was showing off her prosthetic to the unfamiliar turians, chest puffed out as she no doubt bragged about the mechanical arm’s abilities. Madelivio glanced up as they approached, then bobbed his head. “Ma’am, sir,” he said, flicking his mandibles. “My friends offered to help.”

“I can see that,” Lia said, folding her arms. “Refresh my memory.”

“Master Sergeants Freiya Domitiana and Szarus Valerian, and Private First Class Calvetorin Sparatus, ma’am,” he said, gesturing to each one in turn. “Szar’s got medical training, so he can help if anybody gets injured, and the other two just offered the extra guns.”

She glanced at Son, and he nodded. “Thank you, then. So that makes ten of us.” He shook out his shoulders, then made a motion with one hand. “Right, I want two of you to scout out ahead, two to lag behind and bring up the rear, and the rest of you will form the bulk of the patrol.”

“I can scout ahead,” Calvetorin volunteered, bouncing slightly. “I’m a fast runner.”

She was surprisingly small for a turian, only half a head taller than the standard quarian, so the bouncing mostly just made it easier for her to be seen amongst the rest of the squad. Lia was tempted to ask if she wasn’t secretly too young to be a marine, but Nahza spoke before she could say anything. “I can go with ’er,” he said, adjusting his grip on his gun.

Son nodded to them, then glanced over the remaining eight. “Any volunteers to head up the rear?”

Five hands went out, and Son hummed to himself before picking out Seyya and Sergeant Domitiana. After a bit of banter, including Madelivio introducing Domitiana to Seyya as “that girlfriend you didn’t believe me about” and some minor squabbling about whether or not Haasn and Madelivio were a thing, they set off, Nahza and Calvetorin darting off ahead while Seyya and Domitiana lagged behind. Lia herself ran off to one side of the main group, taking long strides to keep up with her longer-legged companions.

As they jogged, the sun slowly set, bleeding red and orange into the sky. She was pretty sure she saw Son slow for a moment, and she smiled to herself. Kael would love pictures of this.

Just as she was considering taking some pictures herself, something barreled into her line of sight ahead, headed right for Nahza.

Before she could even shout, Nahza was hit, and a high-pitched scream rent the air. More focused on Nahza doing an awkward, lopsided cartwheel to the ground before going unnaturally still, it took Lia a moment to realize the scream was Calvetorin, desperately swatting at more of the things, which she now realized were some form of terrifyingly large bug, that were trying to go after her as well. There was movement out of the corner of her eye, then Szarus charged ahead, and she followed after a moment of her brain adjusting to the new circumstances.

Calvetorin sprinted to meet them, arms up to cover her neck. Szarus reached her first, wielding his rifle like a club and batting the bugs away like it was a sport, howling something in the closed dialect. While he was busy, Haasn and Savval ran ahead, matched pace for pace, skidding to a halt near where Nahza had fallen. Savval had barely slotted her rifle into its position at her shoulder before Haasn threw up his arms and a biotic bubble popped into existence over them. “Everyone under!” he barked, legs quaking slightly from the strain.

Nobody needed any encouragement, rushing to the safety of the barrier while Savval provided cover fire. Calvetorin stumbled, but Madelivio and Szarus grabbed her arms and pulled her along, and she collapsed over Nahza’s legs. Lia had to stop herself from doing the same the moment she crossed the barrier, instead satisfying herself with crossing over to Son, grasping his hand, and squeezing as hard as she needed to. He responded with a tight hug, wrapping his arms around her and putting his head over her shoulder. “Keelah,” he breathed, and she could only nod mutely into his chest.

She was abruptly pulled out of the moment by a sharp squawk behind her. “Han, watch out!” Axilus yelped, already reaching a hand out to pull Domitiana to safety that much quicker.

She craned her neck to see Seyya sprinting, a small cloud of the things hot on his heels. “Cover him!” she barked, already pulling away from Son to reach for her own gun.

Seyya was covering a lot of ground in a short amount of time, but Lia still felt her heart climb into her throat as he closed the distance between himself and the bubble. Ten strides. Five. Three. Two.

Seyya all but fell into the bubble, and the bugs bounced off behind him, buzzing angrily. Savval and Lia helped him further inside, and she saw Szarus crouch down next to Nahza, talking rapidly into his comm as he started running scans. “This is Sergeant Szarus Valerian. We’ve been attacked, repeat, we’ve been attacked, hostiles incoming from the northwest quadrant…”

She tuned him out, standing up and staring out in horror as more bugs buzzed against the bubble, making little spots and ripples as they hit. “Ancestors…”

“Whatever the fuck those things did to Nahza’s gonna happen to us the second that barrier comes down,” Savval said behind her, sounding more panicked than Lia could ever remember her.

Haasn grunted. “Yeah, I noticed,” he said, through gritted teeth if the tone of his voice was anything to go by.

Lia heard an odd sort of wavering noise, then, directly behind her, there came a piercing scream. She spun to see Calvetorin had sat up and was clutching her knees to her chest, head tipped back in a demonic wail. _“I want my mommyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!”_ she cried, mandibles down and out as she rocked back and forth.

Szarus reached over and gently rubbed the back of her cowl, then went back to examining Nahza. “He’s alive, at least,” he said. “Just paralyzed. It’s some sort of stasis field. He can breathe and blink and all, and his heart’s still beating, but he won’t be moving any time soon. It just affects major motor muscle groups.”

Lia felt rather than heard the relieved sigh that swept through the group. Granted, that was probably in part due to how she’d turned off audio input to muffle Calvetorin’s screaming, but still. Szarus ran his hands over Nahza, mandibles fluttering, then he sucked in a breath and clenched one hand. He was still for a moment, then yanked with a grunt of effort, pulling off what could only be one of the bugs. Lia winced, seeing a very distinct stinger about as wide around as her thumb and covered in blood.

Szarus shook his head, then straightened up and hurled the bug out of the bubble before going back to Nahza. “Spirits, his suit’s affected, too. Give me a minute, I’ll do what I can.”

“I don’t think it’s gonna matter, not gonna lie,” Domitiana said, crossing her arms. “Those things aren’t just gonna go away, y’know.”

Madelivio’s mandibles twitched, and he straightened up. “Maybe not, but I have an idea.”

Domitiana tilted one mandible. “Ax?”

He grinned at her, then put his hands up, claw-tips just barely grazing the barrier. “You guys might wanna get down.”

Lia hit the dirt so fast she was pretty sure she’d set a new personal record just as Madelivio braced himself and lit up like a drive core.

It took Lia a moment to realize something was different about Madelivio’s biotics. Rather than crackling across him aimlessly, they surged upward, traveling along his arms and out to the barrier. After a moment, the lightning started jumping from his elbows, like the barrier itself was feeding off Madelivio’s energy. Calvetorin stopped crying, peering around as a buzz started up, drowning out the noise of the bugs.

And then they started dropping.

At first it was just the ones that got close, energy jumping the foot or so from the barrier to them with a sharp pop. Then the ones a little further out, then ones even further, until bugs were dropping in huge numbers, arcs of lightning leaping from the barrier with a noise that was like if a flash turned into sound. It was almost metallic but not quite, almost a buzz but not that either, and loud enough that Lia was glad she’d already turned off her audio input, because she was pretty sure it would have shorted it out.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before the bugs were gone; whether they were dead or retreating, Lia didn’t know and didn’t care. And good thing, too. Madelivio dropped his arms, breathing hard, then promptly fell face-first into the ground. Haasn dropped the barrier and followed suit, managing to catch himself with his arms before he faceplanted. Domitiana darted over to Madelivio, saying something about his mother and not giving her a reason to kill her, and Lia let out a shaky breath as she got up. “Keelah se’lai, boys, I didn’t know you could do _that_.”

Axilus wheezed, letting Domitiana help him into a sitting position. “Neither did we.”

Son shook his head slowly, then folded his arms. “So what do we do now?”

“Get this one to medical, for one,” Szarus said, tapping Nahza with a talon. “Ax, Thie, you guys alright?”

Haasn, head now on his arm, exhaled heavily. “I have a headache.”

Axilus let out a shaky laugh. “I bet.”

Domitiana rolled her eyes and got to her feet, reaching down to help Axilus up. “Come on, you should go see a medic, too. The less reason your mom has to strangle you, the better, and playing the hero is definitely up there on her list. You, too, Thie.”

Haasn just groaned, and Lia forced a laugh, going to pull him to his feet. “Come on, kid. Medical can give you something for that headache, at the very least.”

While she helped Haasn up, Son went around checking on the others, making sure everyone was alright. Savval had hefted Nahza onto her shoulders, and cheerfully informed Son she could handle his weight just fine; Szarus was soothing Calvetorin and making promises that they could call her parents when they were back at base. Seyya, on the other hand…

Son practically jumped out of his skin when Seyya grabbed his forearms. “You gotta check me, man!” he pleaded. “One’a them was _on me!”_

Son yelped, then stammeringly agreed, and had Seyya turn slowly while he checked for more bugs. There weren’t any, thankfully, but Lia was pretty sure she felt her heart skip a beat when Todor ran a shaky hand over pockmarks in Seyya’s hip armor.

The walk back to medical, thankfully, was uneventful beyond Calvetorin bolting for her brother so quickly she almost tore Szarus’ arm out of its socket. While Szarus nursed his now-sore shoulder, Domitiana explained that the youngest Sparatus child had only encountered the enemy at a distance, shooting from the safety of a barricade rather than getting in the thick of things.

Poor kid.

While Nahza was taken to a cot in medical, Calvetorin and Seyya were escorted somewhere quiet to calm down, and the two biotics recovered from their exhaustion, Lia heaved a sigh, putting her hands on her hips and pacing over to Son. “Well? What now?”

Son shrugged, tapping at his omni-tool. “That’s what I’m asking Aerazl and turian command. Nieght said they’ve sent out another squad to cover that side of the colony, so we probably won’t have to go back there.”

She heaved a sigh, then thought for a moment before pushing Son down to sit on the bed behind him and flopping down sideways so she was lying across his lap. “We can’t go anywhere until Madelivio and Haasn are on their feet. Love me.”

He hesitated, then sighed and leaned down to hug her. “Keelah, we walked into a mess.”

She returned the gesture, pushing her forehead against his neck. “Well, think of it this way,” she said quietly. “It could actually have been slavers.”

He froze, and she mentally kicked herself. Probably should have kept that one to herself. “Sorry, sorry,” she muttered. “Has Xala gotten back to you yet?”

“One second.” His voice was shaking. Dammit.

He pulled up his omni-tool, then sighed. “He says there’s hostiles on the other side of the colony. No bugs, just the walking ones.”

“What do the turians think?”

“General Oraka says the numbers are lower than they have been. They’re apparently weakening.”

She heaved a sigh. “Thank the ancestors. I’d hate to see what the numbers used to be like.”

Son made a noise of vague agreement, and she went quiet, chewing the inside of her cheek for a moment before reaching up and pushing his omni-tool away. “Hey.”

He glanced at her, and she gently reached up and grabbed his mask, removing it at the same time as she pulled her own off so she could sit up and kiss him.

He grunted, surprised, then slowly kissed back, letting her push him back down until he was lying down on the bed and she was crouched over him, holding his head in her hands and kissing him for all she was worth.

She heard a cough somewhere ahead of her, and she glanced up, then grinned at Xala, who looked more than a little embarrassed to have walked in when he did. “Can I help you?”

Son made a choking noise and turned bright red. “Keelah, who’s there?”

Xala squirmed slightly. “Ancestors, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything…”

She snickered. “Sorry, did you want a kiss too?”

“Lia, I’m gay.”

“That’s alright, Son can kiss you.”

Son jerked up then, accidentally hitting his head against Lia’s. “Oh, keelah, sorry, Lia…”

She rubbed her head, then plunked her mask back on. “I’m alright. Need something?”

Xala fidgeted. “I, ah…” He swallowed. “The turians want more support on the other side of the settlement. They think we’re close to finishing them off for good. General Oraka said if they’re smart, they’ll have figured out reinforcements showed up, and one good show of strength will do the trick. I came to see if Axilus and Thie’Haasn are ready to go yet.”

She got off Son and looked back towards where they’d left the others. Madelivio was leaning against Domitiana, hands behind his head and watching Haasn have a thumb war with Szarus, presumably over the MREs Savval was idly juggling. “Yeah, I think we’re good.” She thought for a moment, then crossed her arms and barked, “ _Hey!_ ”

The little group jumped, Madelivio and Domitiana falling off the bed they’d been sitting on, Savval dropping the MREs, and Haasn and Szarus… well, she wasn’t exactly sure what _they_ did, but there was at least one yelp from their direction, so _something_ happened. She grinned to herself, then said, “If you’re done playing around, there’s still fighting to do. I’d like to punch at least one of those ugly things in their stupid faces, so hop to it.”

There was a chorus of ‘yes, ma’am’s, and she looked back at Xala. “Well?”

He blinked, then coughed into his fist. “Yes, well.” He rolled his shoulders a little, then nodded to himself and pulled up his omni-tool. “Here’s the coordinates where the turians want support. I’ll be headed there with you, but I may need to bow out at some point and help elsewhere.”

She blinked as the coordinates popped up on her HUD, then nodded. “Got it.” She looked at Son, who by now had gotten to his feet and was dusting himself off, and asked, “Ready, Son?”

He glanced up, then grabbed his rifle from where he’d set it down and nodded. “Whenever you are, Aerazl.”

Xala nodded and motioned for the group to follow him out. Lia hesitated, then jogged to keep pace with him. “Hey, just an FYI,” she said quietly, “I accidentally brought up slavers, and I had to distract him somehow. Sorry about, y’know. Making you walk in on that.”

Xala mulled this over, then nodded. “I understand.”

She grinned, suppressing a sigh of relief. Good old Xala. With that little blunder accounted for, she dropped back to run next to Son. As she got there, she reached back and squeezed his left ass cheek.

He let out a high-pitched yipe and practically levitated away. “Lia!”

She grinned. That was better. “Yes?” she asked innocently. “Do you need me for something?”

“I need you to stop grabbing my butt!”

There was a chorus of snickering behind them, and her grin just grew. “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.”

And then she promptly grabbed his ass again. “Aw, damn. Sorry. See what I mean?”

The yelp he let out this time was a good deal louder, and he skittered ahead with a hop, skip, and a jump. “ _Lia!_ ”

And then none other than Xala himself reached over and grabbed him, too.

This time, Todor practically rocketed forward, spinning around as he went until he was jogging backwards, making the most betrayed, scandalized noise Lia had ever heard come out of his mouth. “Aerazl, how _could_ you!?”

Over the comm, Gerrel cackled. “I knew I had to rub off on you sooner or later!”

Xala shrugged innocently, and while she couldn’t see it, Lia could just picture the ghost of a smile on his face as he answered, “Well, you’re not here to do it yourself.”

“That’s what I’m _saying_ , Xala!”

“I’m hanging up now, Han.”

“Waitwaitwait Xala no-!” Gerrel cursed in Lia’s ear, then huffed and said, “Lia, you’re still there, right? Tell Xala he’s an ass.”

“I’ll tell him he has a fine one, sir.”

Xala chuckled. “He just called me an ass, didn’t he?”

“Yessir.”

There was a slight crackle over the comm as Xala reconnected. “Love you, too, Han.” Then he disconnected again, and there was more cursing from Gerrel’s end as the group made their way towards the coordinates the turians had given them.

After a bit, Gerrel’s grumbling died down, and they reached the coordinates without further incident. Commander Nieght was waiting for them, mandibles quirking out when she spotted them. “Perfect timing,” she said easily, shaking out her shoulders and loping over. “Past few nights, they’d send out reinforcements just as quick as we could mow them down. Haven’t seen any of that thus far. We’re picking them off, and nothing shows up to replace them.”

Son puffed out a little sigh of relief. “Good. Then maybe we stand a chance.”

Nieght barked a laugh. “I wouldn’t count on it. Always bet on a desperation tactic.”

Xala nodded. “Any advice, Commander?”

She bobbed her head. “Their heads are easy targets, surprisingly enough. Big things like that, don’t matter that it’s moving. They’re coming from a field, so they won’t have a lot of cover to work with. And if you have to fall back, just run for one of the storehouses. The residential buildings will be full of scared and heavily armed colonists bracing themselves for the enemy to try and break in at any moment. And trust me, ‘scared and armed’ is one adjective pair you do _not_ want to be applied to turians, right after ‘scared and angry,’ which they very well might be if we’re not careful.”

Xala nodded. “Understood. Thank you, Commander.”

She grinned and shook his hand. “Have fun, Commander. See if you can nail any between the eyes.”

She turned and trotted off, and Xala turned to address the others. “Did everyone get that?”

There was a chorus of agreeing noises, and Xala pulled up his omni-tool, starting to tap keys. “I’ll get ahold of the rest of our squadron, send anybody who’s free over to help out. Be careful out there.”

Lia grinned and rolled her shoulders. “Hey, so long as I get to punch at least one of ’em, we’ll be okay.”

Xala made a noise under his breath she couldn’t determine, then saluted the group and went walking away, focus back on his omni-tool. Lia glanced at Son, and he just shrugged, then moved up to take Xala’s spot, facing the group. “Alright, there’s not a lot of us right now, so spread out and help where you’re needed. If you see an area that’s not covered, cover it. If the turians are right, this is a last-ditch effort, so don’t hold back. Got it?”

The agreeing chorus made a resurgence, and Son nodded, then glanced at Lia. “Do you want to..?”

She blinked, then grinned. “Like you have to ask. Come on.”

Like Nieght had said, the Collectors’ numbers were dwindling. Not quickly enough to really deserve the adverb, but enough to be noticeable, at any rate. Lia and Son found a good-sized boulder to use as both cover and something to steady their rifles on, and lining up shots was easier than was probably entirely fair. She came close to getting Nieght’s desired between-the-eyes shot a few times, but never got it quite right, which was mildly disappointing. At least they went down fast if you aimed for the face; that seemed to be the least-armored part of them, at any rate. A couple seconds of sustained fire, and their heads turned into so much goo and guts. It was kind of disgusting, really, especially since the IR scanners supplementing her night-vision visor setting told her exactly where the warm, fleshy bits of face went after they were unceremoniously and unwillingly ejected from their proper positions.

She had to admit, after a couple hours, it was getting kind of boring. True to Xala’s word, extra guns had turned up (attached to the extra people wielding them, of course- they already had Collectors walking around, they didn’t need ghosts, too), and it had only reduced what Lia had to shoot at even further. Zahiya, one of Savval’s friends, had joined her and Son at their boulder of fortitude, and the three of them had taken to playing cards in between shooting really ugly bug-things. Nobody had anything they could use for poker chips, so they’d settled for a game Son had learned on Pilgrimage from a human, some matching game called ‘Go Fisk,’ or something like that.

She was pretty sure Zahiya was cheating. _How_ , she had no idea, but there had to be a reason he was winning instead of her.

She’d just drawn a new card from the deck when a sharp shriek rang out across the field, followed swiftly by thunderous bellowing from the turians and a lot of fast footsteps.

She sat up and looked over the boulder just as a familiar burly turian came skidding to a halt so he wouldn’t crash into it, panting hard. “Spirits,” Drueus wheezed. “Sorry, ma’am, sirs. D’y’know where Commander Nieght went?”

Son shook his head. “What’s your name, soldier? What’s the rush?”

“Drueus Ursinian, sir. And, uh, well… Maybe you should just see for yourself.”

He moved to one side, letting them peer over the boulder at what was behind him. Lia squinted, then sucked in a breath.

Well, that was certainly worth a bellow or fifty.

Huge, hulking masses of _something_ slowly lumbered along the field, turians and quarians fleeing from entrenched positions in their path. There were only two or three of them, but from how they were just shrugging off the bullets the others were firing furiously at them, it was more than enough to make Lia’s blood run cold. “Keelah,” she breathed. “What the fuck _are_ those?”

“Dunno,” Drueus panted, shaking his head, and now Lia noticed his armor was glistening.

“Ursinian, what’s that crap on you?”

He flared his mandibles down and out, now moving to try and scrape it off with his hand. “Dunno, but it took out my shields. I’ll be fine, these generators are crap anyway, but it’s gumming up my joints something crazy.”

Lia swallowed. “What I wouldn’t give for some air support right about now.”

Zahiya nodded in agreement and asked Drueus, “Can you radio the fleet? See if we can get some fighters down here?”

Drueus shook his head. “Not me, I don’t have the authority to call it in. I know who will, though. Come on, this way. And if you see those things aiming that… Iunno _what_ it is, that thing on their arms, just run. That’s what got me.”

Son nodded, adjusting his grip on his gun. “Lead the way.”

Drueus loped off, stiff-legged, and they followed him to a pile of rocks that had been shaped into a makeshift barrier, with a few more turians sitting behind it. One of them was stabbing at his omni-tool with one talon, scowling fiercely. “If you’re going to ask anything related to comms, don’t,” he snapped, mandibles flicking sharply. Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Lieutenant Jorazyn Sahlcorr, field communications.”

Drueus flopped down, sitting behind the wall, and the quarians followed suit. “Is something up with comms?” Son asked, settling his rifle across his knees.

“Not up,” Sahlcorr groused. “Try down.”

Zahiya stiffened. “Comms are down?”

“That’s what I just said two seconds ago, yes.”

“How long?” Son asked.

“Started going fuzzy maybe half an hour ago, then they just cut when those big ugly ones showed up a minute ago,” he reported. “General’s gonna _freak_ , his husband’s up with the fleet…”

His words flicked a switch in Lia’s head, and she felt her heart drop into her stomach. “Shit. Does Commander Xala know?” she demanded.

He raised a brow plate, then shrugged. “Dunno. I’m trying to get them back up, but something’s blocking me.”

Son was quiet for a moment, then nodded sharply. “Right, I’ve got an idea. You said comms didn’t go out completely until the… whatever they are showed up, yes?”

Sahlcorr nodded, and Son continued, “Then it stands to reason that if we can get rid of the big ones, and probably anything with them, comms will probably come back.”

Sahlcorr mulled this over, then shrugged. “Can’t hurt to try. Inter-squad radios should still be working, it looks like it’s just the long-range channels that are getting blocked. Let me try something.” He started stabbing at his omni-tool again, talking to himself the whole while; Lia hazarded a guess that he was talking himself through the process of whatever it was he was up to.

As he worked, Lia heard footsteps off to her left, and she turned just in time to see Xala come skidding up, eyes wide. Uh-oh. “Is your comm down?” he demanded, ducking down to crouch next to her.

She hesitated, and that was all it took. Xala rocked back on the balls of his feet and sat down hard, a high-pitched whine building in his throat. Ah, fuck. “Xala, hey, easy, bud,” she said quickly, reaching over and gripping his shoulder. “It’s fine, I’m sure he’ll be okay.”

Xala whimpered. “We were talking and the comm cut out and I thought maybe something just malfunctioned but it’s not and what if it’s on his end the _Neema_ ’s down Han is-”

She swallowed, then reached over and hugged him tight. “ _Fine_ , Xala. Han’s fine. He took a grenade to the face and lived to tell the tale, he’s pretty hard to kill. Deep breaths, pal.”

Sahlcorr hit his omni-tool with his fist, then nodded sharply. “Right, squad radios are up, and everyone’s tied in. Full access. Turians, quarians, and if any elcor wanna show up, they’ll get patched in, too. You can coordinate attacks now, have fun.” He eyed Xala, then snapped his mandibles against his face. “You’re Commander Xala, aren’t you? Stick around, if you don’t mind. I’m working on fixing the comm signal, and I need someone with the proper authority for contacting the Fleet.”

Lia felt the tension drain out of Xala’s shoulders as he nodded, and Lia sighed in relief as Sahlcorr turned to look at Son, winking conspiratorially at Lia when he caught her eye. “If you want to go play real-time FPS, we can stay here and maintain comms. I’ll send the word along to regroup here.”

Son nodded and hefted up his gun. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Good thinking.”

In maybe ten minutes, they’d been joined by more turians and quarians, and more were still straggling in. Next to Lia, Son swallowed, then raised his voice. “Alright, you all know what’s going on,” he said, addressing the group. “Does _anyone_ have any ideas for what to do? Things you’ve noticed, things you did, anything at all?”

Lia heard a quiet rattle over the radio, and Madelivio spoke. “Armor’s a lot heavier than the regular Collectors, obviously. Warps could handle one, but we’d need more than just me an’ Thie for all of them.”

A female turian piped up, “I don’t think they have good balance. They lumber along like if they picked up the pace at all, they’ll fall flat on their face.”

“Maybe we could trip them?” Savval suggested. “There’s plenty of infiltrators among the lot of us. Throw on a tac cloak and get some stuff in their paths so they fall over.”

Todor tapped his fingers against his gun. “That might work, but we’d need another tactic to supplement and get rid of them for good.” He turned and scanned the battlefield, then sucked in a breath. “Wait a second. Does anybody have a sniper rifle on them?”

Zahiya mutely passed him his own gun, and Son thanked him, hefting it to his shoulder and looking through the scope. He was quiet for a bit, then gave a shout. “That’s it!”

Lia frowned slightly. “What’s it?”

“The things on their back. The, ah, sacs, I guess? They aren’t covered in armor like the rest of them. Big weak point, right on their backs.”

Lia blinked, then sucked in a breath again as she reached the same conclusion he had. “So if we send in infiltrators…”

“They can nail them from behind and pop the sac things!” Savval said, and Lia could hear the grin in her voice.

Todor nodded. “Exactly. So here’s what we’re going to do…”

* * *

 

The plan was simple. While teams of infiltrators kept the big things busy, the rest of the group would wipe out the remaining Collectors, then finish off the big ones after their weak points had been… popped? Whatever would happen.

Of course, “simple” could never be just that.

It worked well, for a while. And then Han’Seyya took a shot in the hand.

He almost let go of his gun with a shout, then ducked into a ditch to treat the wound, grumbling, “That’s _cheating_ , somebody musta told ’em that was already injured…”

Thie loped over to cover him, biotics rippling. “What, they got the bad hand?”

“No, they got the funny bone. Of course they got the bad hand!”

Thie grumbled to himself, then quickly threw out a warp as a Collector turned towards them. “Dammit. Axilus, get your pointy ass over here!”

There was a sound like a high-tension wire, only deeper, and Axilus showed up in a burst of biotic energy, charging a Collector not far ahead and headbutting the shit out of it as he came out of the charge. “There’s no need to be rude,” he drawled, starting to lope over.

As he was picking up one foot, there was a sharp, metallic clang, and Axilus’ face contorted shortly before he let out a demonic wail and went crashing down, shrieking in pain. Thie cursed and sprinted over, ignoring Han’s sputtered “Hey!” behind him, and threw up a barrier, panting. “Shit, you alright?”

Axilus just screamed, clutching at his left shin and thrashing on the ground. Thie decided to take that as a “no.”

He heard panting, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Han, missing his visor, stumble into the safety of the barrier. “Warn a guy next time, would you?” he wheezed, struggling to treat his injured hand. “Fuck, they got me, like, _right_ where it was just healed, this is so fucking…” He trailed off into cursing in the closed dialect, using his teeth to help open packages since the other hand was a bit occupied with bleeding everywhere.

Thie squinted at him. “Where’s your gun?”

“Back in the ditch. Didn’t exactly have time to grab it.”

“Oh. Sorry. What about your visor?”

“Oh, I left it on the _Neema_ ’cause I didn’t want it to get dirty. It’s in the ditch too, you moron!”

Axilus’ screaming cut off. “Did you say dishes?”

“Why the _fuck_ would I say dishes?”

“I don’t know! ‘Dishes’ made me think ‘dinner’ and I’m _hungry!_ ”

“Eat a Collector! They’re right over there!”

“No! They need salt.”

“Then _cry on them!”_

“Turians don’t make tears!”

Han groaned and tossed away the empty container of bio-foam, then took Thie’s pistol from his hip. “Gonna need this,” he grunted, going to help Axilus up. “What happened?”

Axilus grunted, shifting his weight to his uninjured leg and pulling his Phaeston off his back. “They got my bad leg. Not that far up from the seam, either.”

“Seam?”

“The bit where the break healed. Structural weakness, but there’s surgeries and stuff to reinforce it, so I’m good, usually.”

Thie scowled. “Educational banter later! Fight now!”

“Fine, fine,” Axilus said, taking up a position covering Thie’s right flank. “Hey, speaking of eating Collectors, is it just me, or are there an awful lot of them coming for us?”

Han glanced around, then huffed. “I know big targets are easy targets, but this is ridiculous.”

Axilus clicked his mandibles. “Thie, how fast do you think you can get your gun up and firing?”

Thie grunted. “Less than a minute, but not quick enough to manage that many on my own.”

“Yeah, I sorta figured.” He tapped the side of his head. “Command, this is Axilus Madelivio, requesting covering fire at my location,” he rattled off, voice crisp and professional.

“Roger that, Madelivio,” Sahlcorr said on the other end. “Reinforcements will be there momentarily.”

‘Momentarily’ turned out to translate roughly to ‘in ten seconds.’ By the time Axilus had coaxed himself into putting his leg down enough to brace himself for recoil, the Collectors advancing on them were already getting picked off. “Nice light show, Haasn!” Lia said cheerfully over the radio. “Handy beacon.”

Thie rolled his eyes, and glanced over his shoulder at Axilus and Han. “Right, I’ll drop the barrier, and you guys cover me while I get my gun out?”

Han nodded, and Axilus made a series of clicks that Thie was pretty sure meant an affirmative answer. “On three. One, two…”

He dropped the barrier and went to his knees, hurriedly pulling out his gun as bullets flew over his head. Above him, Han let out a shout and started cursing, and he risked a glance up while his rifle readied. Han had spun slightly, Thie’s pistol now conspicuously absent, and the hand he’d just finished treating now sported a new hole in the suit, which was very quickly staining the fabric red.

And then he went crashing to the ground, cursing switching to just plain screaming, a new tear visible on his forearm.

Thie jumped, then hurriedly shot at a couple advancing Collectors before scrambling over to him. “Shit, man, are you alright?”

“Do I fucking _look_ alright!? How much medi-gel you got on you?”

“There’s a couple spare packs in my pocket. Axilus!”

The big turian made a grunt of acknowledgement, and Thie asked, “Think you can cover us while I help Han?”

“Sure thing. Just make it quick, I don’t know how long my leg’ll hold up.”

Thie immediately set his gun down and got to work, digging out a pack of medi-gel and scrabbling at the top. “Kid-proof top,” his right asscheek, more like “ _everyone_ -proof.”

And, naturally, he’d just gotten the damn thing open when his right shin exploded.

Well, okay, not literally, but it sure as shootin’ felt like it.

His own bad mental pun somehow distracted him from the current situation, and it took him a moment to realize he’d keeled over to one side, was clutching his leg, and currently had Han’Seyya yelling at him. It then took him another moment to realize Han had moved, and apparently already gotten the medi-gel applied to his own arm and was working on trying to treat Thie. “What happened..?”

“Luckiest damn shot I’ve ever seen in my fucking life, that’s what happened,” Han said through gritted teeth. “Sit still.”

“Thie, you alright?” Axilus called over his shoulder, not daring to look away from his rifle scope in case more went for the injured.

Thie checked himself over, holding his breath. To his relief, the shot had only left a greave in his groove- a _groove_ in his _greave_ , though he had to wonder if maybe he’d also taken a shot to the head, considering he was apparently now making mental linguistic stumbles he usually only heard out of mouths from the Madelivio or Gerrel bloodlines. His leg had already gone numb from the shock of impact, thankfully, so the moment Han finished applying medi-gel, he grabbed his bicep and clung on while Han stood up, pulling Thie to his feet with him. _No gay thoughts no gay thoughts no gay thoughts_ , he chanted to himself.

Then he put his leg on the ground, shifted his stance so his weight was more evenly distributed…

… and promptly fell back against Han as pain shot through his leg, breath hitching in his throat as Han caught him and looked down at him with wide eyes. _GAY THOUGHTS GAY THOUGHTS GAY THOUGHTS_

Han apparently mistranslated Thie’s look of “oh no I’m really gay” as one of confusion, because he just groaned and said, “ _Painkillers_ , dude! _Painkillers!_ ”

Thie took a moment to process this, his brain choosing to go through several iterations of comments on Han’s rock-hard abs, a couple ideas of what to do with painkillers, back to Han’s abs and a little more on his pecs and biceps, one very specific thought about his jawline, and _then_ getting around to remembering he was in the middle of a battlefield. Once he actually got to that last part, he very determinedly stamped down the others, then furrowed his brow in thought. Similar to how he’d approached homework as a child, he ran through several plans before falling back on the old standby.

“Fuck it,” he grumbled, before setting his suit to flood his system with as many painkillers as he could possibly take without passing out and getting to his feet.

Later on in life, he’d come to describe what happened next as “biotic berzerking,” a tactic typically reserved for the likes of Axilus or the battlemaster brothers of Clan Ravanor. In the moment, however, the only thing his ever-astute brain could come up with was lots of screaming as he charged back and forth as frequently as the need for cooldown would let him, backing up the hits with biotically-charged punches and kicks whenever possible. It was exhilarating, to say the least; he could definitely see why Axilus preferred a similar strategy. Very little could stand in his way, especially with the covering fire provided by Lia’s squad.

He’d been at it maybe five minutes when, far, far too soon for preference, it was brought to a very abrupt halt.

While he was paused on cooldown, a Collector shot at him from behind, and as he turned to return fire, a solid, decidedly not-a-bullet weight hit him square between the shoulder blades. He stumbled forward, and had just managed to stop himself from falling when a sharp jolt ran through him, his legs gave way beneath him, and everything went black.

To his relief, it was just his visor that had gone opaque- that quickly came back online as backup power supplies turned themselves on, returning to its usual polarization and pulling up his HUD again. The rest of him was another story. He couldn’t convince his legs to move, several alerts were popping up on his visor telling him which systems were down, and a very familiar, very unwelcome pain at the back of his head told him his implant was decidedly unhappy with him. His visor blacked out again for a moment, then the secondary backup kicked in. That was definitely not good.

He felt vibrations going through the ground under him, then what he dearly hoped were fingers scrabbling at his back. The weight that had knocked him down was gone momentarily, and he did his best to get his hands under him and push himself up so he could see better just in time to see Han’Seyya hauling back and chucking a… something. Grenade, maybe? He used his uninjured hand, Thie noticed- his non-dominant hand, probably, given how his arm swung wide.

And how he cursed about it not going the way he wanted it to. That was a pretty good indicator.

He turned to follow the object’s trajectory, and it sailed well over the heads of several Collectors, past a squad of reinforcements, and landed squarely on the back of the last remaining big ugly thing, which promptly stopped advancing so it could try to turn and find out what touched it, because if there was one thing that was obvious about these things, it was that they were extraordinarily stupid.

For a second, it looked like whatever it was was just going to be a minor inconvenience to the thing, besides a mild source of confusion. Until, that is, the sac on its back, previously pulsating in what Thie personally thought to be a very disgusting manner, stopped moving, glowing, or doing much of anything.

And then it exploded.

The non-sac-ish part of it collapsed in a pile of gross, twisted limbs, and some sort of goo that wasn’t quite blood but also wasn’t quite _not_ went everywhere, splashing everything within a four-foot radius. Several tac cloaks broke, and a handful of turians stood around looking more than a little disgusted at the goop that now coated their armor and faces. One in particular started spitting and gagging. “Aw, _gross!_ My mouth was open and everything!” he howled.

Another turian called across the field, “You’re a turian, Ursinian! Your mouth’s _always_ open!”

“You know what I mean!”

Thie had only just gotten out a sharp snort of a laugh before he felt something slide under his middle, followed by the decidedly unwelcome sensation of being hefted up. _Not this again_ , he cursed to himself.

Upon noticing his captor was none other than Han’Seyya, he had enough time to think that well, maybe that wasn’t so bad before Han heaved him onto his shoulder like a duffel bag and started high-tailing it back to the main settlement. No, no, he took it back, this was definitely awful. “Put me down!” he complained. “I can walk!”

Han grunted. “There’s still Collectors out there, in case you didn’t notice. You need medical, I need medical, we’re outta here.”

There weren’t that many Collectors left, Thie wanted to protest, but decided against it. His rib cage was pressed just a little too awkwardly against Han’s shoulder to make him want to talk much, anyway, so he instead contented himself with counting the remaining Collectors and watching Freiya help Axilus limp along after them as they went.

* * *

 

 **TO:** 0-000-2

 **FROM:** 0-000-1

 **SUBJECT:** Current Events

Attached is all data on file for the events currently unfolding. We're missing something here; find out what it is and respond as quickly as possible. More data to follow.


	11. Resolution (Part 3 of 3)

Of all the things Son’Todor expected upon walking into medical, an argument about turian cuisine was not one of them.

“Nah, man, if it’s too hot you can’t taste anything. Spice and tang is where it’s at,” Axilus was saying, leaning back against the wall as a medic ran scans on his leg.

Nahza, by now shaking off the effects of the paralysis, shook his head. “Nah, see, heat brings out all the flavor. If ya can’t taste nothin’, ’t’ain’t cooked right.”

Todor folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. “And what are you two on about?”

Their heads snapped around to look at him simultaneously, and Axilus fluttered his mandibles in an easy grin. “Barbeque, sir. Nahza here’s never had good, proper Zouklian barbeque.”

“Good an’ proper? _Good_ an’ _proper_? Now, you listen here, face-flaps-” He cut off abruptly as the medic who’d been scanning Axilus came over and stuck a syringe in one of his suit’s ports and started drawing blood, ignoring Nahza’s flat, drawn-out “Owwwwwwwwwww.” The moment the syringe was out, Nahza went back in like nothing had interrupted him: “There ain’t nothin’ ‘good an’ proper’ ’bout tangy barbeque. Jus’ ain’t _right_.”

Todor stared for a moment, then shook his head and went over to the medic as she went to prepare the blood sample. “How’s everything?”

The medic glanced at him, then shrugged. “Better than it could have gone. We got the big guy’s arm and hand patched up.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, and Todor glanced over to see Han’Seyya lying with his back to Axilus and Nahza, arm in a cast and head staring steadfastly at the wall, determinedly ignoring the other two. “We got the arm splinted and all, but he’s SOL for the hand. Not a lot we can do ’sides brace it and hope for the best. Lot of scar tissue in there, it’s getting real messed up. Much more happens to it, you’ll want to look at replacements. I hear the salarians are good with mechanized prosthetics, maybe talk to them. They probably have some quarian contacts you can get in touch with.”

“And the others?”

“The blueneck will be fine. The paralysis started wearing off about an hour after you brought him in. At this point, the only major thing is that hole in his side, and we’ve already stitched it up and started treatment for infection. The biotics, on the other hand, are another matter entirely.”

Todor felt his breath catch in his throat. “Are they going to be alright?”

The medic looked at him, mandibles fluttering, then apparently realized something and bobbed her head quickly. “Right, yes, sorry, bad wording on my part. They’re fine, for the most part. It’s just that all the equipment I’d need to treat them properly is back on the _Valetius_. See, the quarian-”

“Thie’Haasn,” Todor corrected absently.

“Right, him. The EMP that hit him was real weak, only knocked out all his implants for maybe five minutes. We ran diagnostics, kick-started a couple systems that needed it, that part of him’s good as new. The issue is his leg. The shot he took started a new fracture, real close to an existing seam. I could brace and reinforce it if I had my medbay, but down here, I’m just sort of splinting and hoping for the best.”

He let out a shaky breath. “And Axilus?”

“Madelivio’s a special case. Here.” She tapped at her omni-tool and pulled up the scan results so they were hovering over her forearm. “Here’s the shin plate. See all the cracks and seams?”

Todor squinted, then nodded. Axilus’ shin plate had one long, ugly seam spanning the diagonal length of it, with smaller cracks coming off it.

The medic bobbed her head and pulled up another display alongside it. “Here’s the last scan he had.”

Todor sucked in a breath, and the medic nodded in confirmation. “It’s getting worse.”

“Is there anything you can do?”

She nodded. “His record says the initial break happened when he was eight. He would have gotten a biodegradable lattice inserted, made up of a thulium matrix coated in proteins to strengthen the plate. Thing is, the structural weakness hangs around for good without routine reinforcement, so we replace the lattices every ten years or so. He’s overdue by two years, so the plate’s just been falling apart under stress. There’s a couple things we can do for him, but given he’s not under our command, you’ll need to discuss it with the other officers.”

He puffed out a sigh, folding his arms. “Alright. I’ll talk to them.”

She nodded again and tapped at her omni-tool. “I’ll forward my recommendations to the general and Commander Xala. If you feel like talking to any of them, go right ahead. I have other work to do.”

He nodded and thanked her, then drifted off back towards the bickering marines. “‘Bad cooking’? ‘ _Bad cooking’?”_ Axilus was squawking now, mandibles flared out. “I’ll have you know my grandpa’s the best cook south of the Palavenian equator-”

“Pshaw, that don’t mean nothin’,” Nahza argued. “You’re his grandkid, ’course ya think that!”

_“Are you insulting my grandpa?”_

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Todor said, putting his hands up. “No fighting in the medbay.”

Axilus chirped. “Aw, we weren’t fighting. We were just having a friendly disagreement.”

“That’s called a fight.”

Nahza snorted. “Naw, ’t’ain’t a fight ’til someone pulls a gun.”

Todor stared at him for a long moment. “Nahza, where are you from?”

Nahza stiffened. “Uh. The _Rayya_ , sir.”

“The _Rayya_ …” He furrowed his brow and squinted a bit, “doesn’t… allow guns…”

“Uh…” Nahza threw up an arm and pointed off in a random direction. “Hey, look, a change of subject!”

“Nahza…”

Nahza huffed. “Don’t you use that dad voice on me.”

Todor folded his arms across his chest. “Jorren’Nahza vas _Neema_.”

Nahza threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Yessir sorry sir won’t happen again sir.”

Madelivio’s brow plates went down, and his mandibles fluttered slowly. “ _Jorren?_ ”

“Hey, I didn’t name me.”

Todor sighed heavily. “How are you all doing?”

Nahza rolled his shoulders. “Not too bad, ’cept for the whole pair-alley-sis sitchy-ation.”

Axilus grunted. “We know why they were after a turian colony?”

“If we do, nobody’s told me yet,” Todor said with a shrug. “I was planning to ask turian command next time I spoke with them.”

Axilus let out a short, guttural chitter. “Have fun with that, sir.”

Todor nodded and gave them a little wave, then turned and headed outside. The sun was just starting to creep back above the horizon, turning the sky a faint pink. The sensors in his HUD told him he’d been awake for almost four six-hour shifts, and his body more than felt it. With the excitement apparently over, he just wanted to go back to the _Nuok_ and sleep.

As he walked back to the turians’ base of command, Lia drifted up to his left. “Hey,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder. “You doing okay?”

He sighed. “Very tired, mostly.”

“Well, if you can hang in there for a while longer, Xala said he’s going to make arrangements with the turians so we can get back to the Fleet soon.” She hooked her thumbs into her belt and said cheerfully, “So, how much of that are we _not_ telling Kael?”

“ _Everything_ ,” he groaned. “The baby doesn’t need to hear about _any_ of that. How are you so peppy, anyway?”

“Oh, y’know.” She cracked her knuckles. “I punched one of those bugs in the face and popped his head right off, so I’m cool.”

He made a strangled sort of noise. “You _what?”_

“Yep! Thing just went,” she made a gesture with her hands indicating an explosion. “And I have vid footage, too. You wanna see?”

He swallowed and put a hand on his stomach. _“No.”_

“Suit yourself.” She paused, then snickered. “Heh. Suit.”

“Lia, _why?_ ”

“Hey, I said I was gonna.”

“Keelah, I thought you were _joking_ …”

Lia snickered. “Come on, Xala’s probably off the comm with Gerrel by now. He barely took time out of the conversation to talk to me. Let’s see if he’s gotten around to talking to the general yet. Did you get anything for Kael? You know he’s going to want a present.”

He paused, then cursed. “Keelah, no, I forgot…”

“Well, he’s easy to please. You’ll find something.”

“I know, I know…” Todor let out a sigh and drifted after her as she trotted onward to command. The sooner they could leave, the better.

He’d barely taken two steps into command before Commander Nieght was sliding an arm around his shoulders. “So, Commander Todor,” she said cheerfully, “how do you feel about us stealing Madelivio back for a few hours?”

Todor stiffened. “Uh.”

Behind her, there was a heavy, tired sigh. “Easy, Commander,” General Oraka said, sitting up slightly in his chair. “Commander Todor, we received the reports from medical. Commander Xala has already agreed to allow us to bring him and Thie’Haasn back to our fleet for more thorough medical treatment, but we thought it best to get more votes.”

Nieght let go of him and drifted off, and Todor stammered for a bit before managing to nod. “I, ah, don’t see why not.”

Oraka nodded. “Then I’ll send word to medical. I’d suggest having a shuttle on standby to pick them up once they’re done. My husband is a bit of a stickler for rules, and I’ve no doubts he’d drag Madelivio back to his grandfather by his crest if he came across him, particularly on _his_ ship.”

“Your husband?” Lia asked, folding her arms.

Oraka fluttered his mandibles and let out a proud keen. “Admiral Vartus Oraka. Admittedly, we’re usually not stationed together, but we were fortunate this time around.”

“So he runs the fleet, and you take care of the ground troops?”

He nodded, and she elbowed Todor. “That’s gonna be us someday.”

“ _Lia_ …”

He felt his face heat up, and the general cracked a small smile. “Anyway, before comms went down, Vartus and I were discussing a method of payment for you, as thanks for your assistance with the situation here. He’s agreed to prepare a small shipment of extra supplies, from a list you’ll need to provide. Transferring that shipment would be our best bet for getting Madelivio and Haasn back to you, provided we can avoid Vartus long enough to treat them and get them there.”

Todor bit his lip. “You’re sure you can manage?”

Nieght shrugged. “The _Valetius_ is a big ship, and the admiral and the general being married gives us an advantage.”

Oraka bobbed his head. “Stickler though he may be, Vartus will be worried about me. I’ll keep him occupied in our quarters-” He noticed Todor, whose face now felt like it was on fire and could be used to cook a steak to well-done in ten seconds, and said dryly, “I meant _sleeping_. I’ve barely gotten any at all on this mission, and he’ll be more than happy to indulge me a nap or two before I do any paperwork.”

Lia snickered. “Sorry about him, sir. Our CO uses innuendo like it’s currency.”

“I see,” Oraka deadpanned, then shook his head. “As I was saying, I’ll keep Vartus away from the medbay until the doctors are done helping Haasn and Madelivio, and Commander Nieght will keep an eye on them and make sure you get them back in one piece. I understand a handful of our troops will be happy to help, as well.”

Nieght mumbled something about how it was more than a handful, and Oraka flicked a mandible in her direction. “Is this suitable enough for you, Commanders?”

Todor glanced at Xala, and Xala shrugged. “It’s our best option. Thank you, General.”

Oraka bobbed his head. “Of course. I’d suggest telling your troops to start packing up; we won’t remain here long.”

* * *

 

Axilus yawned and tightened his grip around Freiya’s waist slightly, burying his face into the base of her neck and inhaling deeply. “I don’t wanna go.” He flexed one leg, and winced at the twinge of pain in the shin plate. “My leg still hurts.”

She chirred at him, running a hand along his crest. “I know, I know. But it’s either get going now, or hang around until the admiral finds you and decides you’re much better suited for the brig than my bunk.”

He scowled, and she laughed. “C’mon, don’t be a baby. Your boyfriend should be done in medical by now.”

Axilus stiffened. “Freiya.”

“Axilus.”

“ _Freiya_.”

“If you’re about to say anything along the lines of ‘I just had sex with you, not him,’ save it. We both know polyamory’s a thing that happens.”

“Not with quarians!”

“Oh, get real.” She reached over and bit at one of his mandibles, and he whined. “Don’t give me that. Now come on, get dressed. I’ll check and make sure the admiral’s still in his room.”

He huffed and rolled off the bunk, grabbing his pants off the floor. He had to be careful as he pulled them on, mandibles held tight to his face as he cautiously maneuvered the fabric around the shin plate that hadn’t quite fully recovered from surgery yet. Nieght had agreed to let him and Freiya slip off for a quick round of I-haven’t-seen-you-in-ages-I-missed-you sex while Thie was treated for his fractured leg, on the conditions that they make it quick and Axilus be careful with his still-healing leg. While he didn’t exactly _regret_ the decision, he definitely wished they’d gotten around to it while they were still planetside and safe from the whims of frighteningly rule-oriented admirals.

As he finished getting his armor back on, Freiya turned off her omni-tool and got up, rolling her neck. “Okay, Nieght said she and Thie will meet us in the shuttle bay in five minutes, then you two are going back to the Fleet with some supplies.”

Axilus flicked his mandibles. Part of him was tempted to say no, insist on staying with what was familiar. He’d live with the stint in the brig and the being returned to his grandfather in chains (probably), if it meant an environment he could understand. But at the same time…

He sighed and adjusted his shirt collar so it wasn’t getting caught on his spinal plates. He couldn’t leave Thie just yet. Maybe someday, but not now. “Let’s go, then.”

Freiya led him purposefully through the ship, checking her omni-tool periodically to make sure none of their friends had reported seeing the admiral up and about. Axilus had, admittedly, gotten used to the _Neema_ ’s layout, which he was sure would make his mother bemoan his traitorous mind or whatever, so the best he could do was trail her around and hope she knew where she was going.

They actually encountered Thie and Nieght in the elevator headed down to the shuttle bay, poor Thie scrunched into the corner due to his size compared to the small pack of turians taking up the rest of the elevator. He was back on crutches, and looked distinctly unhappy about it. Axilus didn’t need to see his face to know the comically furious scowl he was wearing. “I’ll pay you if you can convince somebody to let me off these,” he whispered conspiratorially to Axilus.

Axilus raised a brow plate. “Pay me with what?”

“I don’t know, I’ll figure something out. _Please_ , dude.”

He shook his head, and Thie groaned so loudly Nieght turned to give Axilus a dirty look and scold him for harassing the dude on crutches.

Nieght pointed them in the direction of the shuttle that would take them and the supplies to the _Neema_ , then marched off to talk to the crewmen getting everything together. Freiya, meanwhile, helped the two of them limp and hobble over to the shuttle.

Thie was very obviously not expecting the goodbye-and-good-luck kiss Freiya gave him, a big smooch on the visor. Axilus had to wonder if he’d _ever_ expect it, given she’d given him one every time they’d interacted.

His own goodbye kiss included arms wrapped around his waist and cowl, and talons gently cradling the back of his head. “Keep in touch, hot stuff,” she said with a hum, bumping their foreheads together when the kiss was done. “And try to play nice with Thie. I want a turn, too.”

His neck heat up like mad, and he was thankfully saved from having to say anything by Nieght’s voice carrying across the bay. “Oh, good morning, Admiral, I thought you were sleeping…”

Axilus was pretty sure he felt his heart stop, and Freiya quickly shoved him away. “Shit, you guys gotta get in that shuttle. Come on, I’ll help Thie.”

As Axilus grabbed Thie’s crutches and followed him into the back of the shuttle, the voices got closer. “Septimus is sleeping deeper than I think he thought he would,” the admiral was saying. “He’ll be asleep for a while yet, so I decided to let him rest and do the usual rounds myself. How are things going with the supply shipment, Commander?”

Just then, Thie stumbled, and Axilus froze. “What was that?” asked the admiral, sounding dangerously close.

“Box fell, sir!” Freiya called. “I’ll fix it.”

“Ah, thank you, Sergeant…”

Freiya clambered in and helped Axilus get Thie back up, then hopped back out with a hissed, “Don’t move!”

Axilus heard the admiral ask, “Commander, do you smell something?” just before the shuttle door slammed shut.

* * *

 

Gerrel met the returning shuttles in the bay, Todor was relieved to see when he disembarked.

Or rather, he met _Xala_ at the bay.

Todor almost got knocked over by Xala rushing past him, and he had to pause and steady himself while Xala all but tackled Gerrel, knocking him to the floor and lying still for a moment before slowly sitting up, dragging Gerrel with him, and hugging him like nothing was more important.

Todor smiled and made his way over in time to hear Xala ask, “Han, are you crying?”

“No,” Gerrel said, sounding distinctly choked up.

Xala leaned back slightly and carefully pried off Gerrel’s mask, then pulled his own off and gave Gerrel a very teary smile. “I knew it,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “You are _too_ crying.”

Gerrel hugged him tight then, pushing his head under Xala’s chin. By now, Todor was close enough to hear a muffled, “I thought I lost you. After Zaemin…”

Todor stopped dead, feeling his heart lurch as Xala tightened his grip around Gerrel and leaned in closer to him. _Oh_. Right.

He hesitated, then coughed into his fist. They glanced up, then Gerrel disentangled himself from Xala and offered him a hand. “Right, sorry about that. Come on, let’s get you all debriefed and all that.”

Xala pulled himself up, but didn’t let go of Gerrel’s hand as the lot of them wandered through the Neema’s halls. As they went, Gerrel filled them in on what had happened while comms were down, though Todor had a sneaking suspicion he was omitting details for Xala’s benefit; it didn’t help that at one point along the walk, a tech started to say, “But, sir, what about-” before Gerrel punched him in the shoulder hard enough to make him fall over.

Eventually, they wound up in the commons area, Gerrel fixing a mug of tea for Xala while recounting a story that had very obviously veered into fantasy (whatever a ‘dragon’ was, Todor was pretty sure they didn’t have any on the _Neema_ ). Xala seemed to appreciate the detour into nonsensical territory, gradually relaxing more with every ridiculous addition until he was teasingly suggesting elves and dwarves.

Whatever those were.

Eventually, the squadron had dispersed and gone their separate ways, and Gerrel, Xala, Todor, and Lia were left to converse over mugs of hot drinks and a box of turian cookies. Xala had reclaimed Gerrel’s hand, and was stroking the back of it idly with his thumb as the four of them talked. Lia was leaned up against Todor, eyes half-lidded as she sipped at her tea from a straw. She kept dropping the straw, she was so tired, and he kept picking it back up for her. It was kind of adorable.

As Todor picked up Lia’s straw for the thirteenth time, Gerrel yawned. “Hey, shouldn’t you two be getting back to your kid?” he asked, leaning against Xala.

Todor stifled a yawn of his own. “Elani took him to the _Qwib-Qwib_ to visit Lia’s parents. We’re hoping they can get him calmed down about us not being around for a while.”

He gave a small grin. “Lia has parents? I thought she just burst into existence fully-formed and ready to bench-press everything in her path.”

Lia snorted. “Damn straight.”

Todor groaned. “No, Lia, no… Shouldn’t you be taking a nap or something?”

“No, then you’d stop picking up my straw for me.”

“ _Lia_ …”

Xala gave a small smile. “That’s adorable.”

Gerrel nudged Xala gently. “Hey, speaking of naps…”

“Only if you go with me.”

Gerrel considered this, then shrugged. “Sounds doable. Come on, you’ve had a long day. You two go on ahead and head back to the _Nuok_ whenever you feel like it.”

He got up and held Xala’s drink for him as he got up, then started ambling off, hand in hand with his husband. When they were maybe halfway to the room’s exit, a comm specialist appeared in the doorway, holding a datapad. “Sir? The STG is on the line.”

Gerrel grumbled. “What do they want? We’re nowhere near salarian space.”

She was quiet for a moment, then said, “They mentioned the _Kijiuu_ , sir.”

Gerrel went stiff as a board, and Todor swore the room dropped in temperature. “Tell them I’ll be along shortly, Ashalla,” Gerrel said tightly. “Xala, you go lie down, I’ll be with you when I’m done.”

“Han-”

“Xala, please.”

The two stared at each other for a long moment, then Xala sighed and nodded, giving Gerrel a tight hug before vanishing off in another direction. Gerrel followed Ashalla towards the main command deck, and Todor just slowly turned and looked at Lia. “I think we’d better leave.”

“Yeah, just a bit.”

The shuttle back to the _Nuok_ couldn’t get there fast enough. It took all Todor’s willpower not to skip decon entirely, and he instead managed to restrain himself to just tapping his fingers against his thigh as he waited. They’d called Elani shortly before leaving the _Neema_ , telling her they’d be on their way back and that she could go ahead and tell Kael, so with any luck, she and the baby would be waiting for them already.

Sure enough, no sooner had they walked into the main area of the Nuok than they heard a delighted shriek. “Mommy! Daddy!”

Todor glanced around, then smiled and crouched down, holding out his arms for Kael to toddle into as fast as his little legs would carry him. “Hi, Kael!” he said, scooping his son up into a tight hug. “Did you miss me?”

Kael squealed and giggled, hugging him around the neck. “Yes,” he chirped, nuzzling him under the chin. “Love you.”

“I love you, too,” he cooed, giving him a little kiss on the forehead.

“Pezzin?”

“Present? Oh, no, Kael, I think I forgot to get you a present, I’m sorry.”

Kael’s eyes went wide, and his lower lip stuck out in a decidedly unhappy pout. Todor stifled a smile and started patting himself over. “Now, hold on, don’t cry, I’m sure I have something…” He paused over one of the pouches on his belt. “Wait, what’s this?”

Kael immediately honed in on his hand, watching him like a hungry varren as he dug around in the pouch and carefully pulled out a single, slightly-crushed flower. “Why, wherever did this come from?”

Kael squealed and bounced in his arms, reaching for the flower. “Flower! Flower! Pezzin?”

“Oh, Kael, you don’t want this for your present, do you?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, alright. Here you go.”

He handed over the little blossom with a smile, then let Lia take the baby as he bounced and squealed, “Mommy, Mommy, look! Flower!”

Lia gave a little gasp. “A flower? Did Daddy give you that?”

“Yes! Pezzin!”

Lia kissed his forehead, then took the flower from him and very carefully poked it into one of the holes on the side of the little helmet Kael wore with his suit. “There, how about that?”

Kael gasped, then giggled and hugged her around the neck, babbling to her. She smiled and listened patiently for a bit, then nudged his head with hers. “Hey, Kael, you want to see what I got for you?”

He stopped babbling abruptly. “Pezzin?”

“Yes, present. Here.” She dug around in a pocket, then carefully extracted a candy bar of the sort Todor had seen several turian recruits eating on the colony, mishmashes of flavors and textures loaded with far more sugar than any reasonable being would ever need. “Only a piece or two at a time, okay?”

Kael gasped, then eagerly reached for it. Lia smiled and passed him back to Todor so she could have use of both her hands, then unwrapped the bar and broke off a small square for Kael. “Here you go, baby.”

Kael stuffed it in his mouth, then immediately held out his hand for another. Lia laughed, then shook her head and put the bar back in her pocket. “Not right now, sweetie. Maybe later.”

She took him back from Todor, giving him a hug, then shifted him to one hip and took Todor’s hand. “Come on, let’s go back to our room and you can tell us all about what you did with Elani, okay?”

* * *

**TO:** All Units

 **FROM:** 0-000-1

 **SUBJECT:** Situation Resolved

Returning to previous alert level. Resume standard activities. More to follow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last update until after winter break for us, which will be some time mid-January. There'll be a holiday special going up over break, though, so keep an eye peeled for that. Happy holidays!


	12. Somebody Grab a Locker, We Found Us Some Nerds

**Galactic Standard Day 4, Week 2, Month 6, Year 2909**

**(Late Terran Year 2169 CE)**

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Thie groaned, dropping the controller in his lap. “Fucking rookies. Always want to play healer, never know how to do it.”

Over the comm, Eralan huffed. “Just a few more minutes. Val will be on soon, then we can kick the new kid.”

“Can’t fucking wait.” Thie sank back in his chair, watching the loading screen. The Fleet was skirting around the edges of asari space, waiting on permission to cross through turian territory, so Thie had bartered more time helping the comms specialists in exchange for some time and extranet connection to play _Galaxy of Fantasy_ with his salarian friends on the Citadel using the big vidscreen in the common area. He would have _preferred_ trading time in the combat sims for the chance to play, but the cast on his leg said no. Eralan, at least, had been online, as his shift at the clinic wouldn’t start for another several hours. His cousin, on the other hand, was still working at the embassies, and would have to finish… whatever it was diplomats did all day before he could get a few hours to play video games between workloads. Eralan assured Thie that his cousin was a very efficient worker, but after an hour of suffering at the hands of random team assignments, Thie was starting to wonder.

The common area, and in fact pretty much the entire _Neema_ , was oddly calm and quiet, but not in the apprehensive sense one would expect from a dreadnought full of marines going still. It was a serene sort of quiet, like the entire ship had collectively decided to slow down for a while after the debacle on the turian colony. Lila’s usual flock of trainees were clustered around her in one corner, the whole lot of them sitting around filling in coloring books. Ashalla was dozing in a pile of blankets near the vidscreen, helmet on and, Thie presumed, audio input off so she could sleep undisturbed. Reegar and Han’Seyya had grabbed handheld consoles and were lounging in seats near Thie, having apparently decided today was a “play separate video games in a group” kind of day. Gerrel had been around earlier, but an incoming call from the _Rayya_ had dragged him away.

Lia’Adas, on the ship for business with Lieutenant Hazir, was drifting through with baby Kael, who was very happily making sure everybody he encountered saw the varren onesie he’d received as an early birthday present and was currently wearing. As they walked past, Kael glanced over at Thie, then gasped slightly as he recognized him. “Foofy!” he squealed, tugging on his mother’s hand and using the nickname he’d given Thie in honor of his fluffy hair that was an absolute delight to babies everywhere. “Foofy, look! Look what Mama gave me!”

Thie jumped slightly, then waved to Kael. “I’m looking, Kael,” he said, smiling encouragingly. “It’s very cute.”

Kael beamed. “I’m gonna be _two_ ,” he announced proudly.

“I heard,” Thie said, nodding to Lia as she steered Kael away with an apologetic shrug. “Why don’t you go tell Uncle Xala?”

“Okay!”

To his relief, the comm crackled slightly, then the vidscreen cheerfully informed him, _“Your friend has joined your party!”_ as a familiar (and welcome) character model popped into view.

“Yo.”

“There you are,” Eralan said.

“About time,” Thie complained.

“Sorry,” Valern apologized, sounding about as apologetic as a baby krogan caught by their father with their mother nowhere in sight. “Clan Imnoro is changing dalatrasses in a month, so there was extra paperwork.”

“But you have time for a raid now, right?” Eralan asked.

“Would I be here if I didn’t?”

“Good point.”

Thie and Eralan wasted time at the computer-run merchants while they waited for Valern to check and restock his equipment, then set off with him for the nearest dungeon, squabbling about which quest they should start with. Thie had a backlog of several quests from weeks ago that he hadn’t been able to finish with the Fleet moving around, and Valern had a few he needed to redo for loot purposes. Eralan, being the one with the most free time, was the only one of them who had nothing pressing, so he had no preferences.

They eventually settled on finishing up Thie’s list, as Valern and Eralan had already played through them and so could let him take all the good loot. Several enemies in, a thought struck Thie. “Hey, Val?”

“Yeah.”

Thie was starting to wonder if Valern’s voice was even capable of sounding questioning. “You know anything about what the STG are up to?”

“You’ll have to be more specific. ‘Up to something’ is their default state. We get worried when they _aren’t_ up to something.”

Thie rolled his eyes. “That’s encouraging.”

“You apparently missed the part where salarians thrive off nobody knowing what we’re doing.” He paused for a moment, then added, “That includes us. Given how it’s structured, it tends to _especially_ include us.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s divided up by cluster, then system, then planet, then nation. It goes down to cities if one nation has more than one major establishment. It’s more like a collection of militias than one unified military, honestly. Thus Special Tasks _Groups_ , plural.”

“It’s plural?”

“Eh. Translation stuff and technicalities. It’s complicated.”

Thie groaned. “Yeah, whatever. _Anyway_. The Fleet got a message a couple months ago from the STG, and now we’re en route to salarian space. Some planet called Arshorth.”

Valern hummed to himself. “Arshorth is Mannovai’s planet. They’re _especially_ up to something.”

“Gee. Thanks. You’re very helpful.”

“I try.” Thie could hear the smirk in Valern's voice.

Eralan snorted. "He means Mannovai is a den of secrets. It's one of our cultural hubs. The general rule of thumb is, if you can't find it or somebody who can tell you how to get it at Mannovai, it doesn't exist. That includes things that aren't exactly legal. Clan Vaehirn's run the place practically since it was settled. They like the status it gives them, so attempts to crack down on the black market and illegal information trades- and it takes some _really_ underhanded practices for _us_ to consider it illegal- are short-lived."

" _Thank_ you." Thie scowled. “Okay, they, like, said something about a wreck?”

“You mean like Eralan during finals?”

Thie could practically feel the strength of Eralan’s scowl. “Strike two.”

“Hey, now, that was funny.”

“It was _one time_.”

“You drank ten energy drinks in one sitting. And added enough sugar and caffeine to your tea to stop an elcor’s heart. Mother told me _everything_.”

“I was desperate!”

“No, _desperate_ is Haasn trying to pull off a raid,” Valern said, ignoring Thie’s sputtered protest. “ _You_ were going to get straight A’s and die trying. Not ‘or.’ _And_.”

Thie groaned. “Hey, back to the topic at hand, would you?”

“Maybe,” they said, almost perfectly in unison. Valern clarified, “STG work is typically classified so that only the reigning dalatrass in that particular region has the authority to decide who gets to look at the information. Depending on exactly what’s going on, ambassador privileges might get me in, might not.”

“Does that mean you’ll try?”

Valern made a thoughtful sort of noise. “Vaehirn, Vaehirn... Current dalatrass is… Oh, Marrum. Vaehirn Marrum. She likes me, last I checked. Maybe a seventy-two percent shot I could get her vote if Councilor Rawan were to randomly drop dead for no foreseeable rhyme or reason tomorrow. I should be able to get _something_. Cover me for a minute, and I’ll send her a message.”

Thie breathed a quick sigh of relief and moved his character over to defend Valern’s as they stopped moving. There was a slightly-muffled series of beeps for a couple minutes, then Valern puffed out a sigh. “There,” he said as the character on-screen resumed movement just in time to flee madly from the approaching mini-boss. “If memory serves, it should be about mid-afternoon at Mannovai right now, so she should respond fairly quickly.”

“Think we’ll have enough time to finish the dungeon?” Eralan asked.

Valern took a moment to heal Eralan and Thie’s characters, then replied, “Most likely. Dalatrasses are busy people, so ‘shortly’ for her is ‘half an hour to two hours, tops’ for us.”

“Perfect.”

They turned out to only need an hour to finish the dungeon and turn in the couple of quests they’d completed, as both Valern and Eralan were massively over-leveled and could carry Thie through the entire thing with no issues. Maybe halfway through unloading useless loot at the vendors, Valern’s omni-tool pinged at them, and he stopped to check. “Huh. Okay, I’ll admit, I didn’t actually expect her to give me full clearance. Give me a second.”

The mic clicked, and Thie and Eralan waited in silence for a few minutes before it went back on and Valern explained, “Had to yell for an intern to grab my laptop. The dalatrass said she would send over some files for me.”

“What kind of files?” Thie asked, folding his legs underneath him.

“The digital kind. I don’t know!” Valern snorted derisively. “I won’t know anything until I can actually look at the things. Just wait.”

Thie sighed to himself, watching as Axilus drifted into the room and flopped down on a beanbag chair with a book Thie remembered seeing arrive in the most recent care package. An actual book, not a datapad, strangely enough; Thie had seen several in Sephira’s apartment on Palaven, but he would have assumed that they’d keep books far away from the dangers of the galactic postal service. The cover was battered, and the text was faded enough with age that Thie couldn’t make out what it said.

Just as he was considering asking Axilus what he was reading, Valern made a sharp noise. “Here it is. Data stream is slow today. If you want to pause your game, I can do a screenshare and show you.”

Curious in spite in himself, Thie obliged. “Is that even possible at this distance?” While he trusted Valern’s technical expertise, he didn’t have quite the same faith in the extranet.

“You doubt me.”

Sure enough, after a moment the vidscreen went black, then popped back up, showing what Thie would hazard a guess was a messaging client screen. The text was salarian, of course, but when Thie’s translator tried to decipher it, all he got was a jumble of letters that didn’t form anything even resembling words. “Uh. I think my translator’s text function might be broken.”

Eralan hummed. “No, that’s STG standard procedure. Even their declassified documents get the letter-jumble treatment.”

Valern made an agreeing sort of noise. “They trained us- my unit, I mean- for three months so we could read these at a glance. Takes enemy computer algorithms a couple hours to decode, most times, and there’s no guarantee those will figure out the right words, or figure out where the correct spot for punctuation is, or whatever. Dalatrass Vaehirn told me there’s only certain sections I’m allowed to share, so it’s for the best that you can’t read it.”

Thie puffed out a sigh. “Fine. So what’s going on?”

Valern hummed to himself. “Let me see… I assume you know about the thing with the _Kijiuu?_ The part where it blew up.”

“Yes?”

“It says here the Fleet was just outside salarian space when it blew, so… Huh. That’s weird.”

“What?” Thie and Eralan asked, almost at the same time.

“So, our surveillance told us something went wrong, of course, and the STG was dispatched, under command of General Vaehirn Maekso. Good man, he was my old commanding officer back when I was with them. But, it being a giant dreadnought suddenly ceasing to be, they weren’t the only ones to respond.”

Eralan sucked in a breath. _“Wāhi’tu taumakai?”_

 _“Ii’yeh_. But there wasn’t any looting, or at least not while the STG was around. See, around the same time the STG got there, there were already ships from several other organizations. Merc groups, a couple nearby colonies, I think this one’s a mining company…” He scrolled through a bulleted list, then concluded, “Basically anybody who was in the area and could throw together a salvage crew on short notice.”

Thie blinked. “Seriously?”

“There’s a lot of money in wreck salvage. Most starship equipment will fetch a good price on the black market, and hobbyists go nuts for antique ship parts like that.” He coughed. “Not that I would, ah, know anything about that. Anyway, long story short, there was a temporary truce called between all enemy parties. Work together for greater collective success, and all that.”

Thie frowned. “And I’m guessing they found something?”

Valern hesitated. “Well, yes,” he said carefully. “Salvage was split among all interested parties, any fuel found was evenly distributed to help for the trip home, a few of the more patchworked ships took some useable parts to make replacements and repairs…”

“You’re stalling,” Thie said bluntly. “Does that mean there were survivors?”

Valern sighed heavily. “Look, all I’m allowed to tell you is yes. They’re being secretive about it. For privacy purposes, I suppose. Protect the identities from rabid news reporters looking for an instant media extravaganza, or something like that. The _Kijiuu_ going to pieces was a big story when it got out, so any survivors would be most producers’ and publishers’ dream come true.”

Thie considered, then shrugged. “I guess that makes sense. But I’m on the Fleet, can’t you tell me?”

“ _No_ ,” he said sharply. “When a dalatrass gives you an order, you don’t bend it for _anybody_ , not even your own mother. I’m in a delicate position enough as it is, what with the whole ‘not a female in a female-dominated field’ thing. Half the galactic salarian population is waiting for me to slip up so they can publically slaughter my career. If I disobeyed a dalatrass, and it got out, not only would _I_ lose everything, but my entire _family_ could.”

Eralan apparently picked up on something Thie couldn’t, because he said quietly, “Easy, Val. That’s not going to happen, because you’re not going to do anything that would _make_ it happen. Right? You haven’t done anything illegal.”

Valern sucked in a breath, then exhaled, long and slow. “Right,” he said finally, after a vaguely uncomfortable pause. “Moving on.”

On-screen, the message scrolled down, and Valern continued, “The STG relocated survivors to a hospital at Mannovai for obvious reasons, the most serious cases going into the care of..." He trailed off, then highlighted a portion of text on-screen. "Rali, you're not going to believe this. Try to read that."

Eralan mumbled under his breath, then sucked in a breath. "Oh my gods, _he's_ in charge?"

Thie blinked. "What? Who?"

 _"Dr. Iport Waedrok,"_ Eralan said, voice full of nothing short of reverence.

Thie blinked again, more slowly. "And if I knew who that was, that would mean... what, to me?"

"He's only the best surgeon in the _galaxy!"_ Eralan enthused. "My professors told me about him in med school! He's the only surgeon _alive_ who can perform a fully-functional cybernetic somatic nervous interfacing with _organic_ response time, _and_ he was the first to successfully integrate a full neural lattice and external access port without, uh... _complications."_

Thie was pretty sure he heard his own brain short out from attempting to process medical jargon. "Uh. Do you mind saying that again in Stupid-ese?"

Eralan heaved a sigh. "He's a _legend_ in the medical field. I heard his hands are insured for, like, a gazillion. Each."

"A gazillion _what?"_

"Name a currency, and probably. They say his touch is like the voice of the gods whispering against your skin, it's so delicate and controlled."

"Which means that things were bad enough they had to call in the expert of experts," Valern cut in. "I'd brace myself for anything, if I were you."

"Got it," Thie said dimly, brain still trying to figure out what "fully-functional cybernetic somatic whosiwhatsit" meant. "What else is there, besides apparently the god of surgery?"

Valern hummed, scrolling down. "Let me see... Replacement suits were requested from the Fleet for those whose suits were damaged beyond repair, blah blah blah, they’re ready for return.”

Thie blinked. “That’s it?”

“No, but that’s all I’m actually allowed to tell you, so yes.”

“So the STG sent us a special message, all dramatic, just to give back some old crew?”

“You’ll see when you get there. Like I said, there’s more than just that, but the dalatrass said to keep it under wraps.” The cursor on-screen moved around a section of text enclosed by square brackets. “See? She went through and edited the files. Whatever’s in brackets, I can’t say without risking my neck, possibly literally.”

There was a commotion on Valern’s end of the comm, and he said, “Oh, one moment.” The comm crackled as he set the mic down, then Thie distinctly heard him call, “Councilor!”

Thie swallowed. “Any idea what that’s about?”

Eralan hummed. “He’s the ambassador for our entire planet. Uothwar has a lot of business that needs the councilor’s attention, so he has to get her when he can.”

“The whole planet? I thought he was just Jaeto.”

“Nah. Got promoted last year. Didn’t he say anything?”

“No. It never really came up.”

“Yes, I suppose the embassy and _Galaxy of Fantasy_ are entirely separate worlds. I’d guess he doesn’t want to brag, in case things fall apart. He’s Uothwar’s first non-female ambassador in centuries, so there’s a lot riding on him.”

“Non-female?” Thie frowned. “You mean male?”

“ _No_ , I mean _non-female_. He’s not necessarily male, either. He’s agender, just prefers to present masculine for his own reasons.”

Thie blinked long and slow. “I have no idea what you just said.”

Eralan sighed. “Look, it’s a bit more words than I feel like using at the moment, so I’ll explain some other time, yeah? For now, just… It’s not just the male-female thing, that’s just absurd.”

While Thie processed this, Valern’s mic picked up returning chatter. “No, he told me he wouldn’t make it to the afternoon meeting,” Valern was saying. “He has to make sure Calvetorin gets to her psychiatrist appointment, then he has to go see the dentist.”

The comm crackled again, then Valern said, “Sorry about that, I had a few messages to deliver.”

“We heard,” Eralan said dryly.

Thie frowned, thinking. He’d heard that name before… wait a second. “Isn’t Calvetorin the turian councilor’s daughter?”

“Hm? Oh, right,” Valern said absently. “Yes, she’s been home on medical leave for a couple months now. Mission went bad, is all I heard about it. Ierian has been in and out of work since she and her brother got back, the poor kid is so rattled.”

Thie felt his stomach sink, a panicked scream echoing dimly in his memory. Poor Cal. “Is she okay?”

“From what I’ve seen and heard, she’s recovering, but her brother went back to active duty two weeks ago, and she’s still at home. Make of that what you will. I have time for one more raid before afternoon work rolls around, so if you still have quests to finish, we should get started.”

Valern gave Thie his screen back, and the three of them lapsed into a comfortable silence, only broken to give suggestions or ask for assistance. Thie was almost tempted to ask more about Calvetorin, remembering very clearly how upset she’d been, but decided not to push it. It wasn’t his business.

When they were finishing up the quest, a deep, rumbling, two-toned voice sounded from Valern’s end. “Get anything good?”

Thie jumped, startled, then whipped his head around as a loud clatter alerted him to the fact that Axilus had leapt clear out of his seat and come crashing down, causing everyone else in the room to jump as a result. “Dude, what the fuck?”

 _“Doyouhaveanyideawhothatis?”_ Axilus wheezed, everything coming out in one very quick exhale.

Thie frowned. “No, but I’m guessing you do.”

Axilus looked like he was debating whether or not to die right there on the spot. _“That’s the councilor oh my spirits I’m gonna die-”_

Valern and the new voice burst out cackling, and a small rectangle popped up in the corner of the vidscreen as Valern’s end of the webcam started up. Thie had only seen Valern’s face a couple times before, but he was easily recognizable as Eralan’s cousin, with the same long, thin horns and jutting cheekbones. Leaning over the back of the couch Valern was perched on was an older turian who looked surprisingly similar to Axilus, or perhaps closer to his father Aephis. _Duh, stupid_ , a small part of his brain chided him. _They’re cousins, remember?_

The media definitely liked their touch-ups, Thie decided, mentally comparing the turian on-screen to the pictures he dimly remembered seeing on the extranet. The white patch spreading out from his nose was bigger, and the brutal scar on the left side of his face was significantly more craggy and defined. Thie could also sort of see the family resemblance to the Sparatus children he’d met back on the colony; he had Calvetorin’s lean build, and Verres’s long neck and crest, which was emphasized by the fact that turians stretched their necks up to allow their throaty, barking laughs to be heard better. His plates were more of a dull brown than the deep maroon Axilus and Aephis sported, but their facial structure (of what Thie could make out of it, anyway) was nearly identical, and their mandibles could have been stenciled from each other shape-wise.

Valern managed to get ahold of himself enough to reach up and high-three the councilor, cheerfully saying, “I see you got my message.”

Sparatus fluttered one mandible. “You were just in time, I was just about to leave.”

“It’s a gift.”

Sparatus snorted, then dug in his cloak for a moment before pulling out a datapad. “I had to drop by anyway. Rawan asked for my notes from yesterday’s meeting.”

“I can get that to her.” Valern took the datapad from him, then folded his legs neatly and settled back in his seat. “Tomorrow morning?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

The webcam cut out just as Sparatus turned to leave, and Eralan waited a moment before asking, “So what’s tomorrow morning?”

“Coffee,” Valern replied smoothly. “There’s a place about midway between our apartment buildings his wife recommended. Lovely woman, good taste. The coffee’s good, and both Ierian and Aediteia think the turian woman behind the counter is cute.”

“Is she?” Axilus asked, cautiously sitting up as if afraid Sparatus would come back at the sound of a fledgling turian to torment.

Valern snorted. “How should I know? I have no interest in that sort of thing, and you turians all look bizarre to me anyway.”

Axilus mulled this over, then shrugged before starting to hunt for the book he’d dropped, apparently deciding it was an acceptable answer.

Thie rolled his eyes, yawning to himself as Valern added, “I should get going, anyway. New work usually comes in shortly after the afternoon meeting starts. Nice playing with you again, Haasn.”

Thie nodded. “You, too. Thanks for the STG stuff.”

Valern logged off, and Eralan and Thie found their own excuses to leave, neither really wanting to face random team-ups again. Thie disconnected from the server, then absently handed the controller to Reegar and walked over to Axilus. “You know,” he said, pulling up another beanbag chair, “I’ve decided something.”

Axilus looked over at him and lifted a mandible, retrieving his book from the floor and taking his original seat.

Thie was quiet a moment, then folded his hands behind his head, let his eyes drift shut, and said simply, “Your cousin’s an _ass.”_ He paused, then added, "And salarians are _weird."_

Axilus snorted and opened his book back up. "Breaking news that isn't breaking and isn't news."


	13. You Thought You'd Seen the Last of Us

**Galactic Standard Day 2, Week 4, Month 1, Year 2910**

**(Very Early Terran Year 2170 CE)**

Gerrel leaned back in the captain’s chair, skimming a report he had to read before the next board meeting. “Hurry up and wait” was his least favorite game to play; the STG had said they had some quarians on hand to deliver back to them, so they’d agreed to wait in salarian space on their next swing around.

Which, of course, was more complicated than it ever needed to be. It had taken a solid month to get permission from the Union for the Fleet to get anywhere near a decent place to wait, and even longer for the meeting place to be arranged. Tack that on to the time needed for the Fleet to travel around the core and back to salarian space in the first place, and it had been a very long five months. But now they’d finally reached the designated system, nothing was going on, and all there was left to do was wait.

“Xala,” he said, tapping one finger against the frame of the datapad, “any sign of the GPS…” He cursed under his breath. “STG?”

“Not yet,” Xala replied, pointedly ignoring his slip of the tongue and tapping at his terminal. “Be patient, Han.”

“I’m _being_ patient, Xala.”

“That’s the fourth time you’ve asked me in the past five minutes.”

“So?”

Xala sighed and flicked his head to move his hair out of his eyes. “Ashalla, any word yet?”

Ashalla was sitting sideways in her chair, going over reports with assistance from Haasn. Madelivio was sitting a few feet away, reading a tattered old book that bore the scars of something that had been put back together countless times in several centuries. She glanced up from the datapad in her hands and shook her head. “No, sir. Not since the _Nuok_ went to collect them. Sorry.”

Gerrel stifled a groan and let his head thud back behind him. “Can somebody get in touch with Son’Todor?”

“No, sir,” Xala interrupted before anyone else could answer. “You just have to wait.”

“Xala, those are my five least favorite words in your entire vocabulary.”

“I know.”

Gerrel rolled his eyes, clacking his teeth together. He’d never been good at waiting, admittedly. On his more slow-moving days, he felt bad about the years he’d spent running his poor mother ragged trying to keep him busy enough that he wouldn’t notice the passage of time. But right now, he’d rather just hit a fast-forward button on the universe.

A moment later, Ashalla sat up suddenly and tapped at her console, then glanced over her shoulder. “Sir, incoming call from the _Nuok_.”

“ _Finally_.” He pushed himself up out of his chair, folding his arms and pacing. “Put them through.”

The speakers crackled, then Todor’s voice came through, sounding tinny and tired as per usual. “This is Commander Son’Todor vas _Nuok_ , requesting permission to dock with the _Neema_.”

“State your purpose, _Nuok_.” He knew it, Todor knew it, his grandmother on the _Nadiin_ probably knew it. Procedure was efficiency’s greatest enemy.

“Transfer of…” Todor was hesitating. Why was he hesitating? Not good. “Personnel,” he finally said.

Had he just been struggling to find the right word? Gerrel frowned, but answered, “Permission granted,” and signaled to Ashalla. She took it from there, putting the Nuok through the routine docking protocols and directing them to dock. There was a series of solid clunks and thuds as the docking cradles locked into place, and Gerrel puffed out a sigh. “Look alive, people, we have incoming.”

He met Todor at the airlock, shaking his hand and asking, “Ancestors, man, what took you?”

Todor rubbed the back of his neck. “The salarians had more than we expected, and everyone had to go through decon. Sorry.”

They stepped out of the way as more people started to come through behind Todor, brushing specks of debris from decon off their suits. “Everything go alright?” Gerrel asked, folding his arms.

“Mostly.” Todor fidgeted. “There was, ah… one thing.”

Gerrel raised a brow, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted by a sound at the airlock.

_Clack._

_Clack._

_Clack._

There was a squawk and a clatter behind him, and he turned in time to see Madelivio inexplicably bolt out of sight and Haasn sink down in his seat, looking pale. He frowned, half a mind to ask, but turned back to the airlock, tilting his head in confusion as an elderly salarian in dress uniform and a simple breather helmet limped in, one hand clutching a cane in a death grip while the other arm was neatly hidden behind the salarian’s back. The arm not holding the cane was an obvious prosthetic, with tubes and wires coming out of a sleeve that had been cut off at the elbow and light glinting off metal rods.

Beside him, Todor coughed into his fist. “Admiral Han’Gerrel vas _Neema_ , this is… I’m sorry, sir, would you mind..?”

The old salarian rolled his shoulders and nodded to each of them in turn. “Arshorth Seaona Mannovai Seka Vaehirn Maekso, major general with the Special Tasks Groups, Mannovai division.”

Todor looked down and fidgeted, a flush evident behind his mask. “Yeah, that.”

Maekso cracked a smile. “Don’t worry about it. Common problem for non-salarians.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Gerrel said dryly.

 Maekso’s smile grew momentarily, then he switched back to a more professional expression. “Sorry for the surprise, Admiral, but Mannovai’s dalatrass and the doctor in charge of this case insisted we show up in person, and frankly, I’m not the sort to argue with either of them, not in the least because I had to grow up with both of them.”

Gerrel blinked. “Really?”

“Dalatrass Vaehirn is my cousin Marrum, and the doctor is my brother Waedrok. Speaking of…”

The salarian turned his head as another walked in, this one much taller, with long, thin horns and blue-gray skin, in sharp contrast to Maekso’s thick, stumplike horns and reddish-orange skin. His face was bare, without a single mark or tattoo, whereas Maekso had minimalistic red stripes around his eyes and on his jaw. The only similarity was in the eyes; both had acid-green membranes, almost the exact same shade.

And the most notable difference was the scowl etched across his face, clear even despite the breather mask covering his mouth, distinctly reminding Gerrel of his mother after one of his many escapades.

“Admiral, this is my brother, Dr. Iport Waedrok,” Maekso said. “Waedrok, Admiral Han’Gerrel vas Neema.”

Waedrok gave him an imperious look (easy enough, given salarians stood seven feet tall on average), then offered a hand. “My pleasure.”

“Waedrok is the best neurosurgeon in salarian space,” Maekso said cheerfully as Gerrel shook Waedrok’s hand. “Good thing, too. More than a few of the survivors we picked up needed some degree of surgery.”

Waedrok grumbled. “I was actually busy on Aegohr when the dalatrass called. Said it was urgent, but so was the patient I was working on at the time.”

Maekso snorted. “You’re a brain surgeon. Everything you do is urgent.”

“ _Exactly_.”

“ _Matu-tei_ , you’ve been complaining about this for the past two years, give it a rest.”

Gerrel jumped as another salarian practically materialized next to him. Or, well, okay, it was probably more like he’d come in while Gerrel was focused on the bickering brothers. This one looked younger, without all the pigment loss the other two had on their faces, and was a sort of greenish color, with violet markings between his eyes. There was a little gray oval behind his jaw, with several buttons and keys on it. He caught Gerrel’s eye and bobbed his head respectfully. “Dr. Vaehirn Moks. Dr. Waedrok and General Maekso are my uncles.”

Gerrel blinked slowly. “Okay, are there any other salarians coming on board?”

“Just one.” Moks smiled, then looked over his shoulder and barked something in the closed dialect.

Later, Gerrel would swear he felt the ship shook as the last salarian left the airlock. As it were, he could only crane his neck and stare.

This salarian was easily the biggest he’d ever seen, tall and muscular enough to put small krogan to shame. The right horn had been cut off at the base, and the top of the stump was lined with small scars, presumably from the saw. He was the only one of the four in full armor, heavy gray plating marked with orange stripes. A sword that Gerrel swore was as big as Lia’Adas hung at one hip, opposite a pistol that had to be custom-built from the size of it. As he tried to guess how much clearance there was between the ceiling and the top of his remaining horn, the general said, with obvious pride in his voice, “Admiral, this is my nephew, Second Lieutenant Sorrot Raemnor.”

Gerrel scrambled for words, but all that came out of his mouth was, “Big?”

The salarians snickered, Raemnor remaining stonily silent, and Moks said something in the closed dialect that sounded like “ _tutiak tamaikar_ ,” a phrase Gerrel swore he’d heard on Pilgrimage but had never gotten an explanation for. “Raemnor has a genetic condition that occurs in roughly point-three percent of the salarian population,” Waedrok explained, folding his arms behind his back. “Historically, salarians such as him have been held in high regard for a multitude of reasons. They are stronger, faster, have higher stamina and endurance than your standard salarian, and in ancient times were thought to be envoys of the Guardian, a deity of war responsible for defending those on the front lines and protecting them from harm. And, in some cases…” He nodded, and Raemnor closed his eyes, a biotic aura rippling to life around him. “They are capable of tremendous biotic output.”

Maekso twitched an eyelid. “But that’s not what we’re here for,” he said cheerfully, as Raemnor opened his eyes again and switched his biotics off with a shrug of his shoulders. “ _Tam-tei_ , if you would.”

Raemnor nodded sharply and turned, lumbering off to the side as the airlock doors parted one last time.

And then a dead man walked through.

Former Admiral Saar’Zaemin vas _Kijiuu_ brushed bits of decon debris off his suit, clapped his hands together with a clink of his metal prosthetic hand against the environmental seals on the suited organic one, and gave a huge grin Gerrel knew so well he didn’t need to see more than the crinkle of his eyes to know what was behind the mask. “Miss me?”

By the time Gerrel’s brain finished its hard reboot, Xala had sprinted the length of the deck and launched himself at Zaemin, practically wrapping himself around him. There were several loud clacks and whirs as Zaemin’s prosthetic leg engaged hydraulic locks to try and keep him upright, and Waedrok let out a disapproving squawking sort of sound. “Be _careful_ with that!” he shrieked, a biotic aura flaring up around him momentarily. “Those cybernetics are _expensive!”_

Zaemin nonchalantly waved his organic hand, the other awkwardly patting Xala’s back. “It’s fine, it’s fine, chill. I've done worse.”

Maekso said something in the closed dialect, and Waedrok reluctantly lowered his biotics, muttering darkly to himself. After a moment, Xala let go of Zaemin and backed up, awkwardly pushing his hair out of his eyes. “I, uh…” He coughed into his fist. “It’s good to see you.”

Zaemin grinned wider. “Clearly,” he chirped, reaching down to disengage the lock on his leg before hopping back over to hug Xala tight. “Damn, have I missed you guys.”

Gerrel coughed into his fist, stifling a grin. “Oh, I see how it is, Saar, Xala.”

Xala grunted at him. “You can wait your turn.”

Gerrel pretended to consider, then casually answered, “Nah.” And then he promptly strode over and hugged both Zaemin and Xala at once.

He heard a noise that he was pretty sure was Waedrok’s brain blowing a fuse, followed immediately by a long string of cursing in the salarian closed dialect. He glanced up to see Maekso patiently patting his brother’s shoulder, Raemnor passively inspecting his gauntlets, and Moks glancing around like he had no idea what was going on.

After a minute, Zaemin grunted and shrugged the other two off, then straightened out his sashes with a chuckle. “Yeah, okay, I s'pose we should probably try to not break anything on me yet.”

“You _suppose!?_ He _supposes!_ Five years of my life working on his brain, and he just _supposes_ he shouldn’t break anything!” Waedrok paused, then screeched, _“And what do you mean,_ yet!?”

Gerrel blinked. “What do _you_ mean, _five_ years? The _Kijiuu,_ ah… it- it exploded _two_ years ago, not five.”

Waedrok scowled and straightened his coat. “Believe it or not, I was the one who implanted his original cybernetics and integrated the circuitry with his nervous system twenty years ago.”

Zaemin snorted good-naturedly. “Man, you should’ve heard him when he figured out it was _me_ on the operating table.”

Waedrok said something presumably negative in the closed dialect, then huffed. “Before we go, I want one last check to make sure everything is in working order.”

Zaemin made a sound of protest. “Oh, come on! You’ve had two years to be sure!”

One of Waedrok’s eyes twitched, and Zaemin put his hands up. “Right, physical, got it.”

Despite saying so, Zaemin didn’t move. Moks, on the other hand, did, drifting over and casually taking Zaemin’s arm.

As in, taking it clean off and walking away. He just… tapped a few buttons, undid a few latches, detached some wires, and walked away with Zaemin’s arm slung over one shoulder like a club, leaving Zaemin with just a stump ending mid-bicep. For a moment, Zaemin didn’t say anything, just watching as he worked and waiting for him to get a few steps away before asking, “Again? Really?”

When Moks just continued walking away rather than respond, Zaemin sighed, then grinned at Gerrel. “Well, how about that? Five minutes back on the fleet and I’ve already been… _disarmed_.”

Gerrel wasn’t sure whether he wanted to smack Zaemin or himself. It turned out he didn’t have to decide, though- Raemnor did that for him, punching him square in the shoulder with what Gerrel would guess was probably the force of a krogan defending his mother’s honor.

He was honestly kind of surprised Zaemin didn’t vaporize on the spot, but Zaemin only staggered, reached up to rub his shoulder, and gave the giant salarian a dirty look. “Raemnor, man, you wound me.”

“Not yet, but I _will_.”

The voice that came out of the monstrous salarian sent a shiver down Gerrel’s spine. Ten shivers, actually. It was incredibly deep, far deeper than any salarian voice had any business being, better suited to a krogan than a salarian. He supposed he shouldn’t really be surprised, but part of him had been clinging to one last shred of hope that Raemnor _wasn’t_ scary all over and would sound at least close to normal.

Zaemin was somehow unfazed, and just placed his remaining hand over his heart for a moment before shrugging and heading off after Moks. “Come on, let’s go before he comes back for my leg.”

Gerrel and Xala briefly exchanged a look, then wordlessly followed.

They were maybe halfway down to the medbay when Gerrel stopped dead. “Wait, is _this_ why salarians were looking for extra suits?”

The salarians paused and looked at him, except Waedrok, who just continued on, groaning, “ _Please_ tell me this didn’t _just_ occur to him. _Please_. _Anybody_.”

Zaemin laughed, and Waedrok stopped to slam his head against the wall, tilted so his horns were flat against the wall with a sharp _clack_ of bone on metal. “It _did_. Why me?”

Zaemin just laughed again. “He’s not that smart. Sorry.”

“I can tell.” Waedrok muttered something in the closed dialect, ignoring the offended noise Gerrel made, then huffed. “Come on, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can leave.”

How Moks had known where to go, Gerrel had no idea, but somehow he was waiting for them at the door to the medbay, and tossed the arm to Zaemin. “There’s a spot ready,” he told Waedrok, his voice flat.

Waedrok nodded. “Thank you, Moks.”

Moks stepped aside, and Waedrok led the way in, cracking his knuckles. Gerrel hoped that wasn’t a bad sign.

Like Moks had said, a small curtained-off cubicle had been reserved for them, with several monitors, instruments, and other such medical things necessary for physicals. Zaemin plopped down on the cot and took his helmet off- fumbling for a few minutes with the latches and struggling to get it off his head with only one remaining hand- then set it to one side, but before he could get his arm back on, Raemnor plucked it out of his hand. “You won’t be needing this.”

Zaemin stared at his hand, which was still curled like he was holding the arm. “Uh, I think I will.”

“No.”

Zaemin gave him an annoyed look, then rolled his eyes and folded his legs underneath him. “Whatever. I swear, man, you have to pay _an arm and a leg_ for decent medical care around here.”

Waedrok, tapping away at the terminal, stiffened, then slowly turned, picked up the pillow off the end of the bed, and shoved it into Zaemin’s face, gradually pushing him down all the way onto the bed. Zaemin reached up to ineffectually bat at his wrist, but Waedrok had no reaction beyond pushing down harder.

Xala made a distressed sound, but Maekso just shrugged. “Leave him. He does this all the time.”

“Is that _legal?_ He’s a doctor!”

“He’s also thirty-seven. That’s like one of your people being in their nineties.”

“Should… Should he still be working at that age?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Maekso said. “The day Iport Waedrok lets someone else do his job is the only day someone else _can_ do his job.”

“Finally, some recognition.” Waedrok took the pillow off Zaemin’s face and went back to working.

Meanwhile, Zaemin took a deep breath, then sat back up, somewhat awkwardly due to only having the one arm. “Am I ever glad I still have a whole one arm,” he grumbled. “Otherwise I’d be totally at the mercy of all these nutty biotics.”

He said the last sentence while looking at Gerrel and the rest, and thus didn’t notice Waedrok lift his hand, a biotic aura flare, and the pillow go flying at his head with a flick of Waedrok’s wrist.

Zaemin yelped when the pillow smacked him in the side of the head, then groaned, lay back down, and covered his face with his arm. “You know what? It’s safer down here.”

Gerrel snickered while Xala made another of those distressed noises, then paused. “Wait, I thought salarian biotics were rare?”

Maekso shrugged again. “Mannovai was built in an area with a lot of eezo deposits and tectonic activity. My brother and I, our sister’s children… We’re the lucky ones.”

The implications of the statement hung in the air for a bit, then Waedrok flicked a hand at them. “This will only take a few minutes. The rest of you, get out of here and let me work.”

Maekso and Raemnor started moving immediately, but Moks waited, tilting his head slightly until Waedrok sighed and snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Come on, you too.”

Gerrel decided to follow the salarians’ lead and skedaddle, dragging Xala along with him in case Waedrok got too snippy. Outside, Xala found a window to watch from, and Gerrel sighed, but let him be, going to talk to the salarians. He nodded to Moks and asked Maekso, “He doesn’t pay much attention, does he?”

Maekso blinked. “What, Moks? No. He’s just not listening.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

Raemnor snorted and elbowed Moks, who jumped and reached up to play with the oval thing on the side of his head. “Oh, sorry. What was that?”

“Deaf as a krogan teenager,” Raemnor said with a shrug.

“And with about the same attitude,” Maekso tsked. “ _Never_ leaves his hearing aid on.”

Moks made a face. “Have you ever been in the same room as Irajii? Or Selban? I’m doing myself a favor.”

“Your sister -”

“- is a distinguished chamberlain, well on track to become the next dalatrass of our clan, yadda yadda yadda, I know, I know. But she _isn’t_ yet, so she can stop talking my auditory network off.”

Suddenly, Xala spun around, looking rather pale, and Gerrel raised an eyebrow at him. “They just took his leg off, didn’t he?”

Xala nodded, and Gerrel sighed. “C’mere.”

Xala drifted over, and Maekso tucked his hands behind his back. “I wouldn’t worry too much. Like I said, Waedrok is one of the best. And besides, he _was_ the one who originally installed the initial cybernetics. He knows his way around his own work.”

“I know, I just…” Xala fidgeted.

“He’ll be fine, promise,” Gerrel said quietly, taking his hand in his.

Maekso twitched a membrane. “I would try to negotiate so you could go back in, but I expect he’d throw me back out through the window.”

“He should be done shortly,” Moks said. “He’s very efficient.”

Sure enough, they were allowed back in not five minutes later, in the middle of Zaemin reattaching his arm. It was, admittedly, more than a little creepy, with wires and bare circuitry sticking out where an elbow should have been. The arm was in two parts, one that attached above the elbow and the second that attached at the elbow joint of the first. Zaemin was still working on fastening the first part, so when they walked in, there was just a forearm plus a hand lying on the table like a prop for a low-budget cyber-horror movie. Zaemin glanced up at them, then down to his arm, then grabbed his detached hand and waved it at them. “Hey, guys,” he cheerily greeted them. “Need a hand?”

Gerrel was pretty sure Xala turned at least a few shades paler, if not all the way over to celadon. Waedrok, on the other hand, just took a stethoscope off the cart, walked over to Zaemin, wrapped it around his neck, and pulled until Zaemin made a nonchalant choking sound. Apparently satisfied, he released him and put the stethoscope down, then went back to what he’d been doing. “Everything is satisfactory. I’ve left an OSD with full records, vid footage, and notes as to treatment and my work with the chief medical officer here. Now, if you don’t mind, I really should be getting back to Mannovai. You wouldn’t believe how long the waitlist is for my area of expertise.”

Gerrel nodded. “Right, of course. Xala, would you mind showing them out?”

Xala looked like he was considering arguing, then got another look at Zaemin’s detached arm, which was now back in the process of being reattached, and nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. If you would all follow me…”

The salarians drifted after Xala out of the medbay, and Zaemin glanced over at Gerrel with a broad grin. “I was only gone for two years, man. Can’t believe he got even _more_ squeamish.”

“You'd be amazed.” Gerrel shook his head and thumbed at his helmet's release, tossing it down to join Zaemin's beside the cot as he pulled a chair from a nearby cubicle and plopped down backwards into it. “You look damn good for dead, by the way.”

“Thank you, I do try.” Zaemin dramatically ran his organic hand through his hair, then snorted and grinned again. “Honestly though, I am _so_ glad to be back. You have no idea how annoying it is listening to a bunch of weird-ass salarians tell jokes with you as the focus for two years on end.” He ran his hand through his hair again. “And how awful it is to have to grow your hair back out three times in a row 'cus they have to keep shaving it so they can get at your neural wiring. And then they don't even _cut_ it, they just let it grow and- bleh.” He made a face. “Remind me to finally get a decent haircut, yeah?”

“Will do, shitty memory allowing.” Gerrel grinned broadly. “Damn, it's good to have you back.”

“Likewise. Damn good to _be_ back.” He raised an eyebrow. “Come to think of it, you’re actually less excited about it than I was expecting.”

“I just finished an episode, I’ve been awake for three days straight, I’m _really_ tired. Give me a few hours.” Gerrel propped up his feet on the cot. “And since you _are_ back, I need your help with something.”

Zaemin processed this for a moment, then rolled his eyes. “Dude, I _just_ got back. That can wait.”

“Not sex, you idiot! That’s after quarantine. And Tuzh gets to stick you full of needles.” He snickered as Zaemin flinched. “Yeah, have fun with that part, I hear he gets this perverse pleasure from it. Anyway, _as I was saying_ , you know what day it is?”

“Third day, twenty-seventh week of _rau’tagin_.”

Gerrel blinked slowly, and Zaemin reached over to gently bop his forehead with the heel of his palm. “Two years at Mannovai, brainiac.”

“Oh, right. You should get that fixed.”

“Yeah, that’s a _great_ idea! Give me your extranet password.”

“Later, Xala’ll be back any minute. I’ll give you a hint: it’s next month, and I’m planning on getting _really_ drunk and _really_ laid, preferably at the same time.”

Zaemin stared blankly at him for a solid minute before Gerrel watched the realization slowly dawn on his face. “Ahhhhh. I gotcha.”

Gerrel grinned and was opening his mouth to say more just as the medbay door slid open and Xala reappeared, looking substantially less harried now as he deftly removed his helmet and took up a post between the cot and Gerrel's chair, completing the triangle. “The salarians finally left,” he said, sounding distinctly annoyed through the familiar detached tone he always had, “though I swear I almost had to pry them off of poor Seyya before they'd go.”

Gerrel raised an eyebrow. “What did they want with that poor kid?”

Xala sighed and shrugged, surprisingly allowing himself to slouch somewhat. “Honestly, I don't know. Might've just been because he's almost as tall as one of them. Salarians are weird. The doctor took a look at his hand, though, said we'd better start seeing about replacements if it takes too much more damage. Savval seemed excited, at least.”

“She'd always love another friend in the 'I Lost a Hand to a Piece of Fucking Technology Too' club.” Gerrel grinned and nudged Zaemin's leg. “It'd bring you up to three. Shame his wasn't a grenade.”

“Ha ha,” Zaemin answered in monotone, “aren't you hilarious.”

“Why, yes, yes I am, thank you ever so much for noticing.”

Zaemin rolled his eyes. “Okay, but now that all that's done and over with...” He gestured wildly towards the medbay door, suddenly quite a bit more energetic than he had been ten seconds ago. “The fuck's with the tiny Todor on the _Nuok!?_ _Please_ tell me he's related to a _different_ Todor, and not our 28-year-old fresh-from-Pilgrimage nerd!”

Gerrel and Xala exchanged a look, then Gerrel shook his head and grinned. “Man, you missed a lot.”

“Clearly!” Zaemin groaned and smacked his forehead with one hand, all three of the gathered trio flinching at the _clang_ that resulted from his bad choice in hands. “Ow. Fuck.”

“You okay?”

He waved a hand at Xala, rubbing his forehead with the other, then groaned. “Okay, so, just taking a wild guess here- that's Son's son, isn't it? Grandson'Todor? The kid's gone and grown up on us and had his own kid?”

Xala nodded. “You'd be correct. He's...” He glanced at Gerrel. “What, a year and a half? Two?”

“Two,” Gerrel confirmed.

Xala looked back to Zaemin with a nod. “Two years old, then. Son and Lia got drunk one night. A few days later, Lia was injured on a mission, came back...” He shrugged. “The medbay crew had a lot of trouble keeping her calm after they told her the news.”

Zaemin grimaced, still rubbing at the spot on his forehead. “I'll bet. She didn't seem too eager to have a kid when I, ah, left.”

“No, she really wasn't.”

“What was that you called him, though? Grandson'Todor?” Gerrel laughed. “Man, I'm gonna have to use that.”

Zaemin glared at him from between his fingers. “Tell them I said it and I'm calling your mother.”

“You're a goddamn asshole,” Gerrel amicably replied.

The two of them exchanged a look, then simultaneously laughed and relaxed again, Zaemin switching positions to his side, head propped up on his hand, and Gerrel moving to stand up. “I'm gonna get drinks, then we're gonna hear your side of what the hell happened that day. Fair?”

Zaemin shrugged one shoulder. “Fair enough. Waedrok called for a tech to come in and run some scans on my neural net before they let me go, and if I'm gonna have to sit here and deal with someone rooting around in my head while I'm telling that story, I'm damn well gonna have some alcohol to go with.”

Xala turned a few shades of green at that, and Gerrel loped around his chair to give him a hug before ambling off.

He returned just minutes later with an armful of alcoholic beverages and a broad grin on his face, cheerfully trotting back over and distributing drinks to the other two. “Did I miss anything? Bad jokes, amputee puns, the like?”

“Nope. Sorry.”

“Good.”

Ashalla, who had followed him in, moved to sit at Zaemin's other side, opposite Xala. “Don't mind me, just here to run some diagnostics per the orders of one particularly grouchy salarian.” She fiddled around in her bag for a moment, then produced a length of cord, one end of which she plugged into her terminal. She moved the other up near the side of Zaemin's head, where a small metallic panel had been implanted ages ago. “You may feel a pinch.”

Zaemin shrugged. “You're not holding a needle or a hacksaw, so I think I can handle it.”

She shrugged too, then inserted the thin metal end into one of the ports in the panel, quirking an eyebrow at Zaemin's resulting full-body shudder. Then she turned her attention to the terminal, quietly tapping a few keys.

Zaemin made a face. “Hardware connection recognized- yeah, okay, I get that something plugged into my head, _believe_ me, I _know._ Where's the button to turn off the pop-ups?” He jumped, then groaned. “Great, now it's asking permissions. Ashalla, _please_ give me a walkthrough on granting admin access. I don't wanna have to pull up one of the walkthroughs. They're like _books.”_

Ashalla rolled her eyes and tapped another few keys. “If you'll just hold still and not do anything, I can run a root.”

“That's not gonna hurt, is it?”

“Only if you have a fully-functional artificial nervous system linked into your firewalls.”

“Uh...” He blinked a few times. “I do.”

“Oh. Then, yes. It'll be excruciating for a moment.”

Xala turned paler than Gerrel thought possible. “Are you two being serious?”

“No, of course not.” Ashalla shook her head, dramatically rolling her eyes. “It's just going to pull a few codes from his memory banks and plug them in to give me full access. At worst, it'll feel like someone's talking very loudly in his head.”

Xala opened his mouth to protest further, only to be cut off by a high-pitched squeak from Zaemin, whose expression quickly morphed into one of bewilderment. “Oh. Uh. That's a… that's a lot of data. Um. Can- can we turn off my lenses, maybe? The datastream is kind of giving me a headache… and vertigo… and a little bit of existential terror.”

Ashalla gave a heavy, eternally-put-upon sigh and tapped a few more keys. Zaemin relaxed, then made an odd noise, and before he could say anything, Ashalla interrupted and said, “And yes, that turned off your eye. Don't worry, I'll turn it back on when the root's done processing.”

“Oh.” Zaemin relaxed again, moving to pop open a beer. “Okay, that works.” He took a sip and glanced up between Gerrel and Xala, waggling his eyebrows. “So, where should I start?”

“With the salarians,” Gerrel deadpanned, and Zaemin stifled a snort.

“All right, good enough.” He cleared his throat. “For the record, Xala, this can be kind of graphic and, uh, uncomfortable. You sure you're okay staying in while I talk?”

Xala paled considerably, but firmly nodded nonetheless.

Gerrel waited for his inevitable retraction of consent, and when it didn't come, arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

Xala nodded again, harder.

“You're sure?”

“Just- Saar, start talking already, okay?” he finally snapped, still pale as a ghost but trying his best to look like he _wasn't_ about to pass out.

Zaemin shrugged, sipping his beer. “All right, but don't say I didn't warn you.” Then he tilted his head to Ashalla, angling his head in a very familiar manner to account for his new blind spot. “Ashalla, how'm I running?”

Ashalla clicked her tongue, tapping a few keys, then answered, “All green so far. Go on, I'll warn you if I need to run a reset.”

“Right.” Then he glanced back and- oddly enough- smiled. “Ready?”

He gave a moment for objections, then started in.

“All right, so, you guys remember Jaeril? The one that caught a sniper round in the chest that one time on Vallenal- the shuttle pilot?” He paused, then continued. “Yeah, so, the shuttle was right about to take for the _Neema_ and I heard wind they'd just got him out of surgery- yeah, you guys know this, right? Shuttle pilot told you after- and ran down to medical to check on 'im. Had to, didn't feel right to just… leave. I dunno.”

He reached for his drink, which had found its way to the bedside, and took another drink. “Anyway, you guys remember how the _Kijiuu_ was having core problems, right?” Gerrel made a face and Zaemin gave a short, dry laugh. “Yeah, I hear the _Neema's_ starting to have issues, too. Don't worry, she's younger than my girl is- or, well, was. She'll be fine. Should be, at least. Just don't let-”

“Saar,” Ashalla patiently interrupted, “back on topic.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. Anyway, uh...” Zaemin ran a hand through his hair. “Where was I?”

“You went to medical,” Gerrel prompted.

“Oh, yeah. So, I went down to medical, said hello to Vaeril and the med crew, checked on him- good kid, such a relief to hear everything went well for him-” Zaemin paused, blinking a few times as what he'd said processed, and then his face fell. “Oh. Right. Guess it- guess it didn't. Sorry, that was...”

Gerrel shrugged and waved off the apology. Xala reached over to pat his shoulder, still pale. “Just keep going.”

Zaemin took a long, slow breath, then exhaled in a sigh. “Anyway, I was talking to medical- seeing when he'd be fit for duty again, you know- and then I heard a- a- this weird noise? I think. Kind of a- this low, kinda loud, rumbly, uh...” He fumbled for the word for a moment, idly blowing a raspberry while he tried to think of the word, then lamely finished, “thing.” Xala slowly paled as he continued, “Turns out that was the drive core blowing a fuse. Someone'd sent in a bad command and tried to cancel it, got her confused, and the poor girl just couldn't keep up anymore. She sparked- wouldn't've been so catastrophic if she hadn't lit that leak in the dorsal starboard fuel line. You know how it went down from there. Bulkheads sealed down on the far side, but the side I was on...”

He smiled sadly. “I got blown through the window. Lucky that instead of a wall, or I'd be dead. Still had a hunk of glass as long as my arm stuck through my leg though- the robot one, thank the ancestors, or I wouldn't be here right now. Hit my head real hard on something on the way- knocked out half my HUD and one of my scrubbers, sent everything in my head on the fritz. I couldn't even think straight for- I think it must've been at least an hour, maybe a couple. It's fuzzy. But long enough that by the time the reset ran through, Patrol'd already started responding. I tried to flag down a ship, but, well, kinda hard to see something as tiny as a person in something as goddamn huge as space. Couldn't get comms to work, my omni-tool was messed, it was a disaster.”

Gerrel turned white as a sheet. “Oh Keelah, you- shit, you mean you were _conscious_ the _whole time?”_ Beside him, Xala turned a troubling mix of white and green, tears quickly gathering in the corners of his eyes.

Zaemin bit his lip, glancing between the two of them, then heaved a sigh. “Damn, there's no nice way to put this, and this is _not_ the answer you want to hear. Yeah, I was conscious the whole time, saw the rescue efforts and the cleanup and got a front-row seat to the Fleet leaving without me, the whole deal.”

Xala made a choked sound and buried his face in his hands for a moment, then lunged forward and wrapped himself around Zaemin, dissolving into tears the second he managed to bury his face in the other man's shoulder.

Behind him, Gerrel wordlessly stood and joined the hug, face ashen. “Keelah, I'm so sorry...”

Zaemin grunted, making a face at the wall opposite him. “It's fine, it's fine, no hard feelings, seriously. I was a tiny speck in a- a fuckin' _massive_ void, no comms, no 'tool, no flares, no way of signalling. I'd be an ass if I expected anyone to find me.”

“But still-”

“Nu-uh, don't you give me that, and don't you two blame yourselves. Seriously, don't.” He squirmed until Gerrel reluctantly let go, then sighed and patted Xala's back. “Xala, seriously. It's fine, I'm fine, everything's okay now.”

Xala, face still buried in Zaemin's shoulder, made a noise that sounded vaguely like a cross between anguished sobbing and “Shut up, you asshole, it's not okay”. Either that or “Hot damn, honestly, I wanna sashay.” With Xala, either could be valid.

After another moment, Gerrel heaved a long, eternally-put-upon sigh and started prying Xala off, mumbling reassuring nothings to him under his breath until he finally let go of Zaemin's shoulders, instead wrapping himself around Gerrel's torso and crying into _his_ shoulder.

Gerrel and Zaemin exchanged a shrug, and then Zaemin continued his story.

“So, anyway, I was just kind of- drifting, I guess?- for a while after the Fleet left. Still dizzy as hell, couldn't barely keep a thought in my head for more than a second... salarians said the blow gave me a serious concussion and knocked my cybernetics all out of whack, all that fun stuff, lucky I didn't wind up with even _more_ brain damage. I managed to get myself behind this huge hunk of hull so the system's star didn't ruin my prosthetics or fry through my suit, stuck myself there with a couple of the magnets in my arm, and then I just kind of...” He paused, seemingly in thought, then shrugged. “Waited. Mostly I took naps and listened to music, since my omni-tool was trash. Stayed like that for, uh...”

Gerrel waited for him to finish, then scowled. “For what?”

Zaemin squirmed.

“Talk.”

He squirmed again, glancing away.

Gerrel felt his heart slowly descend into around the vicinity of his left boot. “Saar...”

Zaemin stalled, then lowered his head and mumbled, “For a week.”

Gerrel choked. Xala made a high-pitched keening noise and pitched sideways to cling to Zaemin's abdomen, a fresh round of tears soaking into the fabric of his sashes. “A fucking _week!?_ I- oh, _keelah,_ Saar-!”

Before anyone could say anything else, but mostly before Gerrel could make himself as upset as Xala was, Ashalla stuck her hand out in front of Zaemin's face, sending both him and Gerrel backwards on reflex.

She waited for both of them to look at her, apparently deciding that Xala deserved his crying time, then nodded. “Thank you.” She turned to Zaemin. “I need to run a hard reset on your neural net. It's nothing bad, no bugs or anything, just need to finalize some updates.”

Zaemin blinked a few times, then slowly nodded. “Thanks for the warning.”

“Of course.” Ashalla went back to her terminal, tapping a few keys. “Couldn't have you forget how to speak mid-sentence.”

Right as Zaemin opened his mouth to complain at her, she tapped a key and he pulled an odd face, suddenly looking confused and disoriented, then slowly put his head in his hands, presumably to wait out the reset.

A moment later, he raised his head again, grimacing. “I hate hard resets.”

Gerrel snorted. “Because you hate forgetting how to talk, or because it just feels weird?”

“Yes.”

“I- okay, you win.”

Ashalla rolled her eyes and tapped the terminal screen. Zaemin went rigid, then let out his breath in a low whine. “Ashalla, why did you do that?”

“Surely you wanted your eye back,” she casually answered, very obviously trying not to smile.

“I didn't want every optical channel back online all at once, Ashalla.” Zaemin scowled at her while she pointedly avoided looking at him. “Thanks for the headache, you ass.”

“You're welcome, sir.”

He stuck his tongue out at her, then huffed, sighed, and reached down to try and pry Xala, who was still sobbing hysterically, off of his waist. “Xala, you're gonna suffocate if you stay like that.”

Xala made a noise.

“C'mon, please?”

Xala made a noise.

Zaemin sighed. “Look, Xal, it's kinda awkward to try and talk when I have my best friend's husband crying into my gut.”

Xala made a noise and tightened his grip.

Taking the noise Zaemin made as a sign he should probably intervene, and out of concern for his husband's well-being, Gerrel stood back up and moved to pry Xala off of him again, managing to coax him into hugging him instead after a few minutes. His face was red and streaked with tears, hair tousled, and lip trembling uncontrollably, and every couple seconds, he would hiccup and miserably rub at his eyes again.

Zaemin took a long breath in and exhaled slowly now that he could breathe freely, then reached over with his organic arm to rub Xala's back. “Xal, it's okay. I'm fine now, it's all good, I'm back, you can- you can stop crying...”

After a few more minutes of comforting, from both Gerrel and Zaemin, Xala finally seemed to relax somewhat and slumped against his husband's chest, sniffling every once in a while. Gerrel hugged him tightly and continued comforting, while Zaemin leaned back again and gave his now-warm beer an odd look before just chugging it.

After another few minutes, Xala finally sat back up, still sniffling every so often and still looking absolutely miserable. Gerrel kept a hand on his shoulder. “Keep going, Saar.”

Zaemin took another long, slow breath. “All right… The, uh, the salarians stopped by a week after the Fleet left, I guess to comb the wreckage for survivors just in case we- uh, you- uh- fuck.” He scowled at the cot, then continued, “Just in case any were left behind.” He gestured to himself. “Like me. Used thermal scanners and spent a few days combing every couple meters of debris. Pulled six or seven others out before me.

“When they found me, I was- I'm gonna be honest here, I was delirious, I think the faulty scrubber was finally getting to me with the steady drop in clean air or whatever- but I was out of it, didn't even know they were there 'til one of them grabbed me. They ran a scan on my 'tool, found my credentials with the 'Admiral' sticker and all on it- special fuckin' shiny sticker full of responsibilities and people randomly saluting you for no goddamn reason- uh, sorry, moving on- went a few rounds on the reincarnation cycle, then dragged me onboard the rescue vessel and hightailed it for Mannovai. Closest place, I guess, but I was lucky they did 'cuz Waedrok was there. Best neurosurgeon in salarian space, related to some expert cybernetics techs...” He shook his head. “Saved my life again. He about shit himself when they told him it was me on the table again. Flat out decked me when I was coherent again- he warned me he would last time he sent me off, I was surprised he remembered.”

“Your doctor punched you.”

“Yep. Hell, I'd've punched me, too. Anyway, so Waedrok punches me, we have a chat about what happened, he explains what they did, yadda yadda yadda, I spend two years in recovery ’cause there was so much work they had to keep doing. Like, shit, you think stuff gets outdated fast _here_ , you should see _salarian_ tech. Waedrok had this one niece who kept hanging around, doing work on my stuff, making all these little tweaks and adjustments. I mean, she apparently built her own leg, so I _guess_ she’s trustworthy, but _still_ , it’s _bizarre_.”

He shook his head, then picked up his legs to fold them underneath himself. “You guys’d like Mannovai. It’s warm, right near the equator of the planet. And the place is a canal city, so the sidewalks are usually clear. The salarians just swim. I heard the place didn’t even _have_ sidewalks at first- they added them on once aliens started wanting to visit and didn’t feel like getting wet. There’s still a few parts of the city you can only get to by swimming or boat, because they never built sidewalks or bridges or anything. And every spring, they have this big music festival, with flowers and round-the-clock parties and everything. I mean, if you’re going to be stuck somewhere for a few years while they bring you back from the brink of- uh, I, uh,” he faltered, glancing at Xala, “I mean, _from getting spaced_ , you could _definitely_ do worse than Mannovai.”

Xala made a snuffling sort of noise. “So, they treated you alright?”

“What, the salarians? Of course. Very hospitable. Hell, once I was back on my feet, Waedrok pulled some strings and got some acolytes to give me a tour of the place. Some community service thing for their religion. Nice kids.”

Zaemin kept talking, going on about his stay with the salarians and how relieved he was to get back to the Fleet, and the longer Gerrel listened, the more his brain slowly put things together, until…

“Zaemin! You’re back!” he blurted out in the middle of Zaemin regaling them with a tale of the time Zaemin had gotten to sit in on a sermon at Mannovai’s main temple.

Zaemin laughed as Gerrel hopped up and wrapped him up in a tight hug, Xala following quickly behind. “ _There’s_ the Han I know.”

Behind them, Gerrel heard Ashalla puff out a sigh. “You guys are ridiculous.”

* * *

**TO:**  0-000-1  
**FROM:**  0-H01-263367  
**SUBJECT:** Fwd: (No Subject)

Requesting clarification.

\-----FORWARDED MESSAGE-----

> TO: 0-H01-263367  
> FROM: 0-000-2447749  
> SUBJECT: (No Subject)  
>  
> Kill him.

* * *

**TO:**  0-H01-263367  
**FROM:** 0-000-1  
**SUBJECT:** Re: Fwd: (No Subject)

Overruled. Take vid.

* * *

**TO:** 0-000-1  
**FROM:**  0-000-2447749  
**SUBJECT:** Re: Bad Decision

You suck. Consider yourself disowned.

* * *

**TO:**  0-000-2447749  
**FROM:** 0-000-1  
**SUBJECT:** Re: Re: ~~~~Bad Decision

lol im calling mother

* * *

**TO:** 0-000-1  
**FROM:**  0-000-2447749  
**SUBJECT:** NO

DON'T YOU DARE **[system alert: identity compromised; data redacted]**

* * *

**TO:**  0-000-2447749  
**FROM:** 0-000-1  
**SUBJECT:** Re: NO

l o l


	14. Happy Birthday to You, You're a Hundred and Two

**Galactic Standard Day 5, Week 3, Month 2, Year 2910**

**(Early Terran Year 2170 CE)**

Axilus yawned as he plodded along after Cila. “Remind me again why you woke me up?”

“Because Thie wanted you along.”

“And why is he coming along?”

“Because if I’m going to my friend’s birthday party, I’m bringing my sons along. Straighten up, you look like a krogan when you slouch.”

Axilus snorted but shook his shoulders out, folding his arms under his keel in a huffy sort of pout. He wasn’t happy about being awake by any stretch of the imagination, but Cila reminded him of his own mother a little too much for him to feel comfortable talking back or not doing as told.

Cila glanced back at him, then rolled her eyes and dug around in one of her pockets. “Gimme a sec… Here,” she said, pulling out a little bottle and shoving it towards him. “Drink this. You’ll wake up in no time.”

He took it and sniffed at it, flicking a mandible. “What is it?”

“A life-saver. It might taste a little weird, but drink it anyway.”

He considered, then sighed and twisted the top off, tossing the contents back. The effects hit almost instantly, and he shook his head quickly to shake off the sudden surge of buzz in his head.

Cila grinned at him. “Welcome to the land of the living. Come on, they should be almost done setting up.”

Axilus trailed after her into the commons area, first noticing Zaemin and Gerrel unpacking a stack of boxes. “And how, exactly, did you get your hands on all this?” Gerrel was asking, hefting one box up onto his shoulder and carrying it over to the counter.

Zaemin shrugged. “Called in a favor with Maekso. His nephew Adreon can get you anything you need, for a price. Apparently this price was ‘don’t tell Mother.’” He snorted and shook his head. “Kid’s in training to be a _priest_ , of all things. Not the profession you expect for a dealer, you know?” He glanced up as Cila and Axilus got near, then waved. “Hey, Madelivio, over here!”

Axilus blinked and drifted over, mandibles fluttering. Zaemin rather unceremoniously shoved a box into his hands, one that made a quiet tinkling sound. “Here. Courtesy of Clan Vaehirn.”

He blinked, then adjusted his grip so he could open the box and peer in. “Is… Is that horosk?”

“Full case of it,” Zaemin chirped. “Figured you’d prefer turian liquor. We have quarian stuff, but it’s rationed to hell and back, so we’re using some alien stuff. I think there’s some drell booze in here, maybe. I’ll have to check the list Adreon sent me. But definitely salarian wine and asari… Iunno, it _looks_ like wine to me, but they _insist_ you can’t drink it out of anything but a shotglass. Maybe some volus beers, they make nice beers, last I checked. Human stuff is okay if you have a low tolerance, but I don’t recommend it. _Really_ weak. They think it’s hard stuff, but it could barely give a salarian a buzz. Trust me, we got bored and did some experimenting the Betau before last.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Thie and confided in a low voice, “Gave him a human cocktail. Don’t tell him, we told him it’s a light volus draft so we wouldn’t hurt his feelings.”

Cila puffed out a sigh of relief. “Good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah, good. He’s got a low alcohol tolerance. So does Del, what’d you give him?”

Axilus was pretty sure he saw Zaemin watch his life flash before his eyes. “Uh. An asari sangria.”

“Sangria?” She frowned slightly, thinking, then groaned. “With what?”

Zaemin very slowly looked down. “Brandy.”

Axilus hadn’t known Cila had the lung capacity for the length of groan she let out. “He’s going to need leave for a week, the hangover he’s going to get.”

Gerrel glanced up from the glass of whiskey he was lovingly pouring himself and gave her a jaunty salute. “Will do. Hey, did you see my mum on your way here?”

Cila shook her head. “No, I think she’s still on the _Tonbay_.”

“Great!” Zaemin said, perking back up. “That gives me time to scout out some hiding places.”

Gerrel snorted. “From _my mother?”_

“ _Yes_ , from your mother. I’d hardly been back a day before she dumped a metric assload of paperwork on me, and I’d really prefer to avoid getting nagged about it.”

Gerrel rolled his eyes. “Look, as her son, I’m going to tell you right now, life gets a lot easier if you just do _what_ she says _when_ she says. Saves everyone a lot of grief.”

“Easy for you to say. She forgives _your_ allergy to hard work.”

“ _Excuse me?_ I- wait, hold on,” he said, pulling up his omni-tool to scan a message. “Oh, it’s Lia. Lover boy’s on his way.”

With that, he promptly topped off his glass, slid the bottle over to Zaemin, and trotted off to the opposite end of the room, grabbing a small, inconspicuous package out of a chair as he passed by.

Axilus flickered a mandible, then left the adults to their weird discussion and glanced around for more interesting pursuits. Spotting Thie, Del, and Del’s girlfriend- what was her name, Tazi? Probably Tazi- hanging around by a viewport, he drifted over, propping his box of horosk on one hip.

As he approached, Tazi was fighting with Del’s hair, trying to get it to stay pinned back with a small pink clip. “Would you hold _still?_ ” she complained. “You keep getting all huffy about your hair in your drink, then you don’t let me _do_ anything about it.”

Del grimaced at her, then sulkily went back to his straw while Tazi got the clip in order. “There,” she huffed. “Don’t lose that one, okay?”

Del only shrugged, and Tazi huffed, glancing over at Axilus as he pulled up a beanbag chair. “Hey, Ax. What’s in the box?”

“Horosk,” he said, flopping down in the chair and settling the box neatly on the floor. “It’s a turian… I guess maybe a whiskey? I don’t think our word for this kind of alcohol translates. It’s really good, but it’s _really_ strong. Like, I’ve heard of aliens who had a glass and a half of horosk and had to go to the hospital for alcohol poisoning.”

“So, like ryncol,” Thie said.

Axilus shrugged. “Basically, ’cept it tastes better, and my grandpa says horosk is stronger.”

Tazi considered this, then glanced at Del. “So where does an asari sangria fall?”

Axilus flicked one mandible. “I could call Grandpa and ask. He’s kind of an alcohol snob.”

Thie paled slightly (impressive, given how weirdly pale he was in the first place). “I never want to hear Trierceo Actinus’s voice again.”

Axilus tilted his head. “Why not?”

“Have you met him? He’s _scary_. And I think he likes me, which is even scarier.”

Axilus thought for a moment, then shrugged and pulled up his omni-tool. “Yeah, fair point. I’ll, like, text him instead,” he said, already starting to type the message out. “I think he might be working right now, so no guarantees.”

There was a small commotion on the other side of the room, and Axilus turned to see Gerrel wrapping Xala up in what had to be a bone-crushing hug. He couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, but he couldn’t help but grin when Xala got over his apparent shock and returned the hug, leaning down slightly to press a kiss to Gerrel’s forehead. He turned his head as Tazi got to her feet, then quickly sent the text to his grandfather and followed with Del and Thie as she wandered over towards the officers.

By the time they’d gotten close enough to hear anything, Gerrel and Xala had separated, though they were still holding hands loosely. “You didn’t forget your own birthday again, did you?” Gerrel asked, voice somewhere between joking and not.

Xala’s eyes widened slightly, and Gerrel rolled his eyes. “You _did_. And you claim _I_ have the bad memory.”

“I’ve been busy!” Xala protested.

“So busy you forgot your own birthday? Who even does that?” Gerrel apparently didn’t notice Del giving Thie a very pointed look as he folded his arms across his chest. “I mean, I honestly expected you to catch on before now, what with Zaemin making calls back to the salarians and us getting all weird and awkward when you walk in the room.”

Xala’s face slowly turned red, and he looked at his feet. “I, um. I thought you two were…”

Gerrel blinked slowly. “Xala, do you mean to tell me you thought I was hitting on Zaemin every time you walked in on us having a conversation?”

Xala looked red enough that, had Axilus known the saying at the time, he would have thought a human bullfighter could have used him in place of the usual cape. Gerrel looked like he didn’t know if he should laugh at his husband’s embarrassment or be insulted by his apparent lack of faith in his fidelity. “Xala. Dearest. Darling. Love of my life. How could you betray my trust in your previously infallible ability to know when I’m up to something like this?”

Xala stammered unintelligibly, and Gerrel gave him a quick hug. “It’s okay, I’m not upset or anything. Come on, we’ll drink and make out in an inappropriately public space. Mum’s coming, and I think your parents said they’d try to make it. And Savval and some of the others, too, of course.”

Xala allowed Gerrel to lead him back over to the counter, and Axilus and the rest followed suit, more out of lack of anything better to do than genuine curiosity. As they approached, Zaemin popped up, looking vaguely confused before his gaze settled on Xala, and his face lit up like the auroras Axilus had spent childhood summers watching. He got up and stretched, then loped around the counter and wrapped Xala up in a hug. He tried to reach for Gerrel, too, but Gerrel ducked away, and Zaemin stuck his tongue out. “Oh, come on.”

“Hey, I’d be getting the robot arm, and we both know it,” Gerrel said, jabbing an accusing finger at Zaemin’s face. “I like not having my ribs crushed, thanks.”

Zaemin rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a baby.”

Xala grunted. “Could you two try not arguing while I’m suffocating?”

“You’re fine, you’re talking.” Zaemin let go anyway, and Xala took a moment to brush himself off. “Here, I’ll get you a drink,” he offered. “Fancy a nice rum cocktail? A nurse at the hospital back on Arshorth showed me how to make a really good one.”

* * *

 

Xala wasn’t really one to look forward to his birthday every year. He didn’t mind it, by any stretch of the imagination, he just didn’t really see what the big fuss was. So he was a year older. Big deal. He was only forty-four. If he were turning, say, a hundred and forty-four, then he could understand. But as it was, he really didn’t understand the point.

But Han liked any excuse to shower him with affection, so he supposed it wasn’t _that_ big a deal.

And what a birthday it was. Zaemin had come back from the dead, perfectly fine and with fancy new upgrades to his cybernetics, courtesy of the STG. Lia and Todor had brought Kael along, and the imperious little two-year-old had deigned Xala worthy of sharing his prized candy that Lia had given him as a bribe to behave on the shuttle from the _Nuok_. Xala wasn’t much for sweets, but you didn’t turn down a gift from a toddler. His own parents, visiting from the _Alcata_ , had scraped together the credits to get him a soft scarf meant to go over his hoses and hood, which currently sat loosely wrapped around his neck. He was pretty sure Han found the scarf even more enjoyable than he did, because he was currently leaned up against him, using the mass of fabric like a pillow as he tried very hard to pace himself in his drinking. Maybe he’d let him borrow it now and again. Han himself had presented him with a box containing a stuffed hanar, with a body the size of his head and tentacles roughly half as long as he was tall. The thing was currently sitting atop Ashalla’s head, like a very bizarre hat.

Zaemin tossed back another drink, then shook his head slightly. “So how old are you, now?”

“Forty-four,” Han responded before Xala could himself. He turned his head enough to grin cheekily up at him. “He’s _old_.”

Xala merely blinked slowly down at him, then bent his head so his hair fell in a neat little curtain around Han’s face. “Then what does that make _you?_ ” he asked. “You’re forty- _six_.”

Han blinked rapidly, then groaned. “I did not think that through.”

He smiled and reached up to rub his shoulder affectionately. “I didn’t think so.”

Ashalla, sitting across from them, grumbled and swirled her drink in her glass. “Gee, thanks. I’m forty- _two_.”

Zaemin snorted. “ _I’m_ thirty-nine.”

“Shut up.”

At the end of the counter, Admiral Raan propped up her elbows, folded her hands, and rested her chin on them. “Han,” she said calmly, “I’m _eighty_.”

Xala was pretty sure he saw Han’s soul leave through his eyes. “Sorry, Mum.”

“I should hope so.” She carefully brushed a lock of silver hair out of her eyes, then smiled gently. “Happy birthday, anyway, Aerazl. It seems like just yesterday Han was complaining about the new sniper who kept following him around like a varren pup.”

 _“Mum!”_ Han protested. “I did _not!”_

“Don’t _lie_ , Han,” she scolded. “You know it’s true.”

Han looked offended. “It’s not like that lasted longer than, like, a _month_.”

“No,” Raan conceded. “As a matter of fact, I distinctly remember you calling me after a mission and going on about how attractive the sniper was.”

Han’s face turned almost as red as his hair, and Zaemin cackled. “Aw, was it love at first sight? How sweet.”

“Don’t make me come over there.”

“Oh, _hush_ , Han,” Raan scolded. “Don’t start fights on your husband’s birthday. Hello, Del,” she added as the much larger of the two Haasn brothers wandered over and started very gently toying with her hair, letting it out of its bun and starting to separate it into three separate clusters.

“Yeah, Han, don’t start fights,” Zaemin teased, prompting Han to toss back the last of his drink and attempt to reach across the counter to strangle him.

Xala sighed and shook his head, gently pulling back on Han’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Han,” he soothed. “He’s just trying to get to you.”

“No, now _I’m_ trying to get to _him!”_ Han lunged again, and Zaemin jumped back with a yelp, then another yelp as he fell out of his chair.

Ashalla rolled her eyes and took a sip of her cocktail. “Ma’am, with all due respect, I have trouble believing he’s yours.”

Raan puffed out a sigh, ignoring the rather offended noise Han made. “Sometimes, so do I, Ashalla’Shalen.”

Han let out a betrayed whine, and Xala smiled in spite of himself. “It’s okay, Han,” he repeated, rubbing his back. “I still love you.”

“At least _somebody_ does,” Han complained, going back to leaning against him.

Raan shook her head as much as Del fiddling with her hair would allow. “Han, I think you might have had enough alcohol for now.”

“Getting cut off by my _mother_. Keelah, what has my life _come_ to?”

Xala hummed and pressed a light kiss to his forehead, rubbing his shoulder. “I don’t know, I think it says a lot that your mother came to celebrate my birthday with us.”

“It says she’s a sap.”

Raan snorted softly. “You didn’t think it was so bad when you were two and asking for a hug every few minutes.” She winced and tilted her head slightly, then murmured, “Gentle, please,” to Del.

“Yeah. _Two_. That was forty-four years ago.”

Raan rolled her eyes and reached over to gently smack Han’s shoulder. “Stop fussing.”

“Sorry, Mum.”

Xala smiled slightly and rubbed Han’s shoulder. “If it’s any consolation,” he murmured, “I fell in love instantly, too.”

Han flushed again, then gently bumped his head against Xala’s. “Hopeless romantic, you are,” he muttered, the slight smile pulling at the corners of his lips betraying him in spite of his scoffing tone.

Xala beamed, moving his head to watch Del as he neatly coiled Raan’s new braid into a little bun, pinned it in place, and drifted back off to rejoin the cluster of younger marines. “What do you suppose they’re talking about?” he mused, more to himself than anybody else.

Han grunted and shifted to make himself comfortable. “Probably something stupid, like how much food Madelivio can fit in his mouth, or whatever.”

* * *

 

“So, like, can I fight your dad?” Axilus asked, mandibles fluttering sharply in a way that his brain was trying very hard to remind him would only be read as “incredibly serious and angry” by turians and “kinda weird and confusing” by everyone else. “Would I get in trouble for that? Will they send me back to the Hierarchy in chains or something?”

Thie rolled his eyes. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Only if I got arrested by somebody hot.”

Lila waggled her eyebrows at Thie, and Axilus amended quickly, “A hot _turian_.”

“Oh, so Haasn’s a turian now? Fascinating.”

Shala’Ganu, from her spot in the corner, mumbled, “That explains a lot.”

Axilus flicked one mandible hard. “I am not a xenophile. Like, no offense, really, but I really don’t dig aliens.”

Thie stared at him with a “really?” sort of expression, and he huffed. “Look, dude, you’re the exception, not the rule. It’s like-”

 _“Shhhh!”_ Thie hissed suddenly, flapping a hand at Axilus and looking pointedly over his shoulder. “Del’s coming! He’s weird about that stuff, at least when it comes to me.”

Axilus raised a brow plate but flicked a mandible in acknowledgement as Del drifted over and sat down. “So, like I was saying, can I fight your dad?”

The party had split into two separate groups not long after its start, the older marines taking over the counter (and crates of drinks) and the rest of them claiming their usual circle of comfortable chairs. Initially, it had only been Axilus, the Haasn brothers, and Tazi, but as time wore on, more friends had drifted in and joined them for lack of anything else to do. Lila and a couple of her pre-Pilgrimage flock, Reegar, and a few quarians he hadn’t smelled before and thus had no idea who they were.

Hey, it wasn’t _his_ fault his memory had been irrevocably linked to scent by millennia upon millennia of evolution. He was only twenty.

Fuck, he was _twenty_.

He shook his head and rejoined the conversation as Tazi was complaining about Del having “lost” another hair-tie. Del only looked at her, blinked slowly, then simply shrugged and took a sip of his drink.

As Del moved his head, his hair shifted slightly, falling to one side and revealing a rather nasty-looking gash of old, faded scar tissue running from about the inner corner of his right eye, across his nose, and over to one of the vents under his left eye. A second, smaller fleck ran under the portion on the right half of his face, stopping just short of his nose.

Axilus inhaled sharply, and Del looked at him, raising an eyebrow. Feeling his neck heat slightly, he gestured with one talon across his face. “This. Looks like you got on a claw-fiend’s bad side.”

“A what?” Lila asked.

“Monster. Lives in the forest. Wicked-nasty talons, all sharp and poisonous. Hunts little nestlings that stray too far from their parents.” He shuddered.

She tilted her head. “How does it hunt them?”

He raised a brow plate and lowered one mandible. “You tell me.” He shook his head, then looked back at Del. “But seriously, like, that’s a nasty scar, man.”

Thie squirmed in his seat. “It happened a long time ago, we don’t need to-”

Del raised his head from his glass and looked at Thie. “Dude, chillax.”

Axilus blinked, trying to figure out why Del had told Thie to make him chill rather than telling him himself, then noticed the others trying to muffle laughter and Del staring off into space like he was contemplating all his life decisions that had led him to that exact situation. “Right, translators,” he muttered to himself, hoping the joke hadn’t been _that_ funny.

Del shook his head, then puffed out a sigh. “It’s no big deal, really,” he mumbled, talking more to his drink than Axilus. “Tohl- our dad, I mean- he was drunk one night, or maybe he was high, or both, I dunno, but he was going off on Thie, and Thie was, like, twelve I think?” He thought for a moment, then took another drink and nodded. “Twelve.” He cast a glance at Thie, who had on a rather sulky pout, and added, “And a half.”

Axilus raised a brow plate at Thie, who only scowled at him as Del went on, “He talked back, things got, uh…” He swallowed. “Tohl threatened to hit him, I got in the way and wouldn’t let him, and, uh. He hit me. Environmental sell, sale, _seal_ was the long one, and he knocked me down, and that was the little one.”

Nobody really knew how to respond to that. Del fidgeted awkwardly, and after a moment he lowered his head again and stuck his straw back in his mouth, his hair falling right back in his face.

As if a spell had been broken, Tazi immediately groaned in frustration, and the tension whooshed out of the group like somebody letting all the air out of a balloon. While Tazi scooted over to fix Del’s hair, Lila coughed loudly into her fist. “So, anybody have anything else to talk about? Something a lot less, uh, _dark?_ ”

Thie stared at a spot on the floor. “You got a multi-word response. Like, a couple paragraphs’ worth. That’s a new record.”

Del promptly reached over and pushed him out of his chair, and the group let out a collective laugh that sounded just a tiny bit forced. Reegar slammed back the last of his fourth beer and shook his head, then leaned on the back of his chair and asked, “Hey, Madelivio, what were you planning on doing after ditching us? Go back to the turians, maybe shoot at us as we pass by a remote colony now and again?”

Axilus snorted. “Far from it. I’d get my ass booted into the Cabals and left to rot until I’m old enough to get shipped back to my mom. I was actually thinking of maybe seeing about university. See, with my heritage, I can probably at least get a good discount on tuition, if not free.”

“Turians have university?” Tazi asked, now trying to get Del to give up his drink. “I thought that was just an asari or salarian thing.”

He shook his head. “Most of us take online courses during the later years of mandatory, so we can get a job shortly after we leave. It’s _way_ cheaper than most other species, ’cause the government pays for most of it through taxes and junk. The empire’s strength is determined by its people, so they really want us all to be as well off as we can manage. If you pay anything, it’s for, like, books and supplies, and maybe for the _really_ special professors. And since my mom’s an Actinus, and Dad’s family is Madelivio-Sparatus convergent-”

“They what?” Lila asked, scrunching up her nose.

He heaved a sigh. “The Madelivio and Sparatus lines had a marriage- my dad’s parents- and since both lines are prestigious in their own right, neither line is neglected, and we say they’re convergent. The Sparatuses are a bunch of doctors. It’s kind of a weird thing that our councilor is a Sparatus, actually, he went into law like his dad instead of medicine like his mom- and this is, like, common knowledge in the empire, it’s not just me being creepy- so it’s, like, throwing a bunch of the clan elders for a loop that a Sparatus broke tradition and got famous for politics instead of doctoring.

“ _Anyway_ , like I was saying, ’cause of family bloodlines, I can probably get a super-good price for online university. Maybe a history major. That’d make Dad happy, he loves history. But I also kinda like literature and anthropology, so I’ll have to think about it.”

He glanced around at the group, most of whom were now staring at him blankly (the exception being Del, who was attempting to retrieve his drink from Tazi). “What?”

“Dude,” Thie said bluntly, “that was the _nerdiest_ thing I have _ever_ heard come out of a _jock’s_ mouth. And I grew up with _him_.” He jerked his thumb at Del, who, in a rather impressive display of comedic timing, promptly fell out of his chair trying to reach the drink that Tazi was now holding as far away as she could without falling herself.

Ax stared for a moment, then fluttered his mandibles sheepishly. “Yeah, okay, you’ve got a point.”

* * *

Ashalla folded her arms across her chest, watching the spectacle in front of her. Honestly, she’d only been gone _five minutes_ to go drop off some paperwork and put Xala’s new toy hanar at his workstation. How could _anything_ happen in only five minutes?

The group of adults had dispersed, for the most part: Admiral Raan was gossiping with Xala’s parents, Zaemin was playing with Lia and Todor’s kid, Lia and Todor themselves were on the other side of the room…

… and Admiral Gerrel and Commander Xala were sitting against the wall, Gerrel straddling Xala’s hips with Xala’s hands gripping his thighs, making out like they had it on very good authority that the world was going to end in a few hours. Their faces were flushed like they’d managed to sneak more alcohol after Raan’s little ban, and she saw a few flashes of blood here and there- either one or both of them wasn’t being careful and using teeth.

With a heavy sigh, she slowly drifted over, lifted one leg, and kicked Gerrel right in the ass.

Immediately, he slammed forward into Xala, who was in turn slammed back into the wall with a rather loud _thud_. There was a _clack_ as their faces collided, probably their teeth, and her stomach knotted with a brief surge of guilt. Whoops.

Still, she put her hands on her hips and glowered imperiously down at them. “Get a room, you animals.”

Gerrel took a moment to sit up and clutch at his head, then whined up at her, only to be distracted again by Xala whimpering in pain. She bit her lip, then sighed. “Sorry. You need medical?”

Xala shook his head, and she offered a hand to help him up. “You two should go lie down. You’re, like, super drunk.”

Gerrel heaved himself to his feet and waggled his eyebrows at Xala, Xala grinned, and she let out a long-suffering sigh.

* * *

 

Xala yawned and stretched, instinctively snuggling deeper into the mass of pillows and blankets that made up his and Han’s bed. He blinked wearily up at the dimmed light overhead, then sighed and rolled onto his side to press closer to his husband. He didn’t want to wake up. His body ached, his head pounded, and Han was splayed out in that adorable way he always did after he…

Oh, no.

He sat bolt-upright and snatched up one of the pillows, shoving it against his mouth to muffle the scream that fought its way out soon after. Han was startled awake by the noise and commotion, and scrambled for a moment before sitting up and glancing over. “Xala?” he asked, still just a little bit slurred from sleep and drink.

“Ohhhh, keelah, why does this always happen?” he asked the pillow, voice muffled by the knit green plaid. “Every year, every _year_ …”

“Xala?” Han repeated, moving to sit next to him. “Xala, are you okay?”

Xala hid his face in the pillow. “I _made out with you_. In front of _all those people_ …” Keelah, he was embarrassed by Han kissing his _cheek_ in public, and they’d been having a _passionate makeout session_. He _really_ needed to stop drinking at parties.

Han fidgeted, then wrapped an arm around his shoulder and gave him a gentle hug. “If it’s any consolation,” he offered, “we tend to do much worse things on my birthday.”

* * *

 

 **TO:** 0-000-1

 **FROM:** 0-000-844874

 **SUBJECT:** Recent Behavior

We’re going to have a talk.


	15. You Know What This Series Has Been Sorely Lacking? Giant Spiders.

**Galactic Standard Day 2, Week 1, Month 3, Year 2910**

**(Early Terran Year 2170 CE)**

Axilus yawned and shook his head, blinking drowsily as he tried not to nod off in the warmth of the rocks he was leaning up against. “So why did I have to come, again?” He clacked his mandibles against his jaw and adjusted his position, sliding down so he could comfortably tuck his head into his cowl. “It’s resting day on Palaven, you know.”

“Well, it’s ‘get Axilus off his lazy ass’ day on the Fleet,” Thie said, nudging Axilus’s leg with his foot.

“Seems like that’s every day,” he mumbled, feeling around for his helmet so he could have something to block out the planet’s sun.

“Because you’re a marine.”

Axilus huffed quietly to himself, giving up on the helmet and turning his head away from the sun. “Admiral said this was just recon, though. Poke around, look for anything useful. You guys don’t need me for that. I was _sleeping_ , dude.”

Thie rolled his eyes. “We can use your sense of smell, though. And besides, if I have to be up, so do you.”

“That’s hardly fair.”

“What’s that thing moms are always saying? Life’s not fair.”

Axilus snorted. “My grandfather says that one. Both of them.”

“Yes, but you, like, worship your grandfathers, so same effect.”

“I do not!”

Thie folded his arms. “Dude, you worship your grandfathers more than my people worship our ancestors.”

Axilus fluttered his mandibles. “Look, first off, it is not my fault that my granddad’s a general and I was brought up to be incredibly respectful and lowkey terrified of that fact upon pain of being force-fed my own hide. Second, you _did_ meet my grandpa, right? Big guy, probably used to eat boys he didn’t like who liked my mom, secretly the nicest parent-slash-grandparent in the universe but spirits help you if you point that out?”

“Sounds like my mom,” Thie said dryly. “Now come on, would you?”

Axilus looked around the little area where the squad was waiting around. Gerrel and Xala were checking over each other’s armor, Kal’Reegar and Lila’Yaana were arm-wrestling while Han’Seyya supervised, a couple marines he didn’t recognize were playing cards, and shy little Shala’Ganu was trailing behind Rena’Kaddi with the forlorn sort of slope to her shoulders he distinctly remembered Szarus having when he’d looked at Vreena in the months before they’d hooked up. A fairly standard-size squad, really; smaller if you didn’t count the two trainees. Nobody really expected trouble on recon missions. He was fairly certain the only reason half of them were there was because they needed an excuse to get off the ships for a while before they went up the walls from being cooped up. “Space madness,” his people called it. Go too long without dirt beneath your talons, and you’d totally lose it.

He’d always thought his family was just telling him things to scare him. But after staying with the Fleet for a couple years, he was more than willing to believe they’d given him nothing but the truth.

Granted, he wasn’t entirely sure that quarians got the same way, but hey, you never knew.

Across the way, Gerrel tightened one last clasp on Xala’s armor, then shook his neck out. “Keelah, can we _go_ yet?” he complained. “Who’re we still waiting on?”

Over the comm, Zaemin hemmed and hawed a bit. “She’s almost there,” he assured Gerrel. “Just give her a minute.”

“That’s all well and good, Zaemin, but what’s the _name?”_

“Well…”

 “Here I am!” called out a rather chipper, yet slightly out-of-breath, voice as a vaguely familiar, very tall quarian woman came trotting up. “ _So_ sorry I’m late, I was finishing programming- look, look, here’s what I was working on!”

As the woman fumbled for her omni-tool, Gerrel let out a groan. “Why is _Dara’Neeya_ here?”

“She needs to test a few things for Special Projects,” Zaemin said. “And she’ll be doing the computer work when you reach the target location. Nothing fancy.”

“Zaemin, buddy. Why didn’t you warn me about this?”

“Because he knew you’d pitch a fit, Han,” Xala mused, checking that his husband’s hoses were properly clamped down.

“This is a conspiracy,” Gerrel grumbled, folding his arms across his chest.

Either ignoring him or simply not registering that he was complaining about her, Dara managed to get her omni-tool up and tapped a few keys. “Look!” she said happily as two small drones, one the same kind of standard holo-sphere Axilus’s mother had modified into her assistant Solas and the other a rocket-shaped surveyor, whirred to life and flew little loops around her. “Tid’hi and Ruk’hi!”

Axilus blinked at her. Something had _definitely_ gone through the translator wrong. “Wolf and Saint?” Whatever a ‘wolf’ was…

She blinked, then considered. “No, but I _like_ that. Very snappy. I’ll add it to their parsing!”

He pushed himself to his toes, realizing that the reason he hadn’t been able to find his helmet was because he’d balanced it rather precariously on one knee just in time for it to tumble to the ground. He huffed, more in annoyance with himself than anything else, then picked it up as he asked, “What’s parsing?”

“Oh, it’s the coding that-”

Gerrel held up a hand. “Big words later. We have a job to do.”

“Right, yes, sorry!” Dara fiddled with her omni-tool some more, recalling the drones and talking more to it than to any of them. “Okay, um, where did I put it… I had a file that said, um, I think it was where we’re supposed to go maybe? But, um… Oh, never mind, I found it!”

Gerrel slowly put his head in his hands. “Xala, if my cause of death isn’t _myself_ , it’ll be Dara’Neeya.”

One of the marines Axilus didn’t recognize squirmed and looked at him. “Sir, is that really something you should be joking about?” he asked, and Axilus was reminded yet again what a blessing subvocals could be by how the marine’s vague reproach was _right there_ in his primary (okay, _only_ ) vocals.

Gerrel turned to look at the marine very slowly, then blinked, then said, “Jisul, I’ve attempted _thirteen times_ since I was _eleven_. Five of them were within a year of each other. Joking about it’s a lot better than the alternative.”

The marine, Jisul apparently, squirmed even more, and Gerrel pointedly turned his back on him to turn to Dara and Xala. “You were saying, Neeya?”

She blinked. “That’s… A good question, actually.”

Gerrel groaned, and Xala sighed patiently. “Where we’re going?” he prompted.

“Oh, right!” She bounced slightly. “I have a document around here somewhere…”

“You literally just found it!” Gerrel said, slapping his mask. “Look down!”

“Huh? Oh!” She glanced down at her omni-tool and pulled up the file. “Thank you! Um, okay, I think we go… North. We have to go north. And a little… That one’s west, right?”

Gerrel groaned and started walking off. “It’s going to be a long day.”

With apparently nothing else on the planet besides them and some sort of six-legged furry thing that smelled like each one they encountered had just rolled in something dead, nobody really saw much of a point in trying to stay professional. As they hiked to the target area, everyone strolled along and chattered like it was a picnic rather than a deployment. Axilus kept his head roving back and forth, mandibles dropped so he could smell better. There was something tangy and too-sweet in the air, like rotting fruit, and it was blocking out just about everything else; even the sharp metal and bitter polymer smells that Thie’s suit gave off next to him were muted by the fruit scent.

Dara was walking next to him, peppering him with questions that he answered automatically, without really thinking about what he was saying so he could focus on smell. Things like, “Are turians really purely carnivorous?” and, “Why do you paint your talons?” and, “Do you have full-body tattoos, or is it just the face?” and, “Is it true Palaven has a planet-wide empire that abolished the need for tariffs and passports?” and, “Why do you paint your talons?” again. It wasn’t exactly _annoying_ , not really; it was more like an interview by a very absent-minded reporter. At least it filled up the otherwise quiet landscape with sound.

So when, after maybe a minute, it registered that Dara had stopped talking, he paused and turned to see her standing stock-still. “Uh… Are you alright?”

“Um.” She swallowed audibly, eyes presumably focused on something in her HUD. “I think we might have a problem.”

As if on cue, or perhaps as if the writers needed to kick the plot along, a giant… _thing_ came scuttling over the hill they’d been headed towards with a loud, rapid-fire series of thuds with each step. It was a massive, bulbous thing, like somebody had taken three varren eyeballs and smushed them together in a row. It had… well, okay, Axilus couldn’t quite count from how quickly it was moving, but he’d hazard a guess of maybe twelve legs, along with two distinct sets of gnashing mandibles and a head covered in filmy white eyes.

The first to move was Reegar, who promptly jumped maybe three salarian-heights in the air with a piercing shriek, dropping his rifle on the way. He came down a few feet over, landing squarely in the arms of Han’Seyya, who was, like Reegar, busy screaming. Shala’Ganu and Rena’Kaddi practically disappeared, taking off in the opposite direction so fast they were barely more than a blur in Axilus’s peripheral vision. Poor kids.

Next to him, Thie about died of shock, coming back enough to hurriedly throw up another barrier as more of the things clambered over the hill. “ _Really_ , dude?” Axilus asked, reaching over and yanking Dara closer to him so she’d be safe within the bubble (probably). “Why is _that_ always your first instinct?”

One of the things, which Axilus realized with more than a few skipped heartbeats was roughly the size of his bed back home if you didn’t include the legs, landed squarely on the barrier. It quaked slightly, but held, and Axilus let out a high-pitched whine. “I take it back!” he said, voice a couple octaves higher than it probably should have been. “It’s a good first instinct!”

Across the way, Gerrel was crouched by Xala, who had apparently fainted dead away, fumbling for his shotgun. “Zaemin, buddy,” he was yelling into the comm, “I need you to tell my mother I love her, and _please_ tell me you’re recording this!”

The only response that came over the comms was a high-pitched terror-squeal from Zaemin, and Gerrel groaned. “Not very encouraging, mate! Come on, Xala, talk to me,” he added, shaking his husband’s shoulder with his foot.

Xala whined quietly and lifted his head, then promptly shrieked and went right back down as Gerrel turned to shotgun one of the creatures in the face. Gerrel groaned again and shook his head. “ _Infiltrators_. Brag your ear off about their sharpshooting, then up and cry for Mum the moment anything gets close-combat, _keelah_ …”

It occurred to Axilus that he should probably also be shooting things, so he reached around and grabbed his shotgun, calling to Dara, “Those drones of yours wouldn’t happen to be combat-grade, would they?”

Dara stared at him for a moment, then hit herself at the top of her visor with the heel of her palm. “Keelah, that’s right!” She called up her omni-tool again, and in a moment the drones were buzzing around again. “Go get ’em, Tid’hi!”

The little surveyor buzzed off, immediately deciding that dive-bombing one of the things while shooting bolts at its eyes was clearly the best course of action. “Huh,” Dara said, watching in fascination. “I don’t remember programming her to go for the optics.”

Axilus raised a brow plate. “Uh, you mean the eyes?”

“Right, yes. Of course. Round sight organs.”

Axilus watched the orb drone hover near Dara’s head for a second, then went back to trying to line up a shot. “Doesn’t the second one do anything?”

“Hm? Oh, Ruk’hi is for defense! She boosts shields. I’m working on a couple modules for dispensing medi-gel and recognizing allies so she can help them, too, but I haven’t had enough time to work out exactly how that would necessarily work yet.”

The thing that had been terrorizing their bubble now effectively distracted by Tid’hi, Axilus took aim at the point where its head joined the middle bit, dug his talons into the ground, and fired. He’d been hoping for a clean detachment, but of course he couldn’t be so lucky; he got maybe a half-beheading, with a big hole in the side spilling innards in one big waterfall of gross.

With how close the thing was, he got a big mouthful of the smell, flooding every olfactory receptor he had with the smell of… “Aw, _gross!_ ” he complained. So _that_ was the source of the thing he’d been smelling all morning. “What kind of guts smell like _fruit?_ ”

Thie glanced at him, bewildered. “Seriously? Fruit?”

 _“Yes!_ You’d know that if you’d turn your olfactory sensors on now and again!” He clattered his mandibles against his jaw, following Dara’s drone with his eyes as it darted off to attack the last remaining spider, which had apparently figured out it wasn’t going to get through Thie’s barrier and was beating a hasty retreat towards the small forest off on the horizon.

“Tid’hi, wait- _Tid’hi!”_ Dara groaned and stabbed at her omni-tool, then huffily put out her arm. “I really need to work on the recall module…”

While Thie put down the barrier and sat down to catch his breath, Axilus blinked and stared, then jumped as the attack drone came zipping back and clamped onto Dara’s arm. “Spirits!”

“Oh, sorry. Should I have warned you?” Dara asked, slipping Tid’hi into one of her many pockets. “It’s a magnet, with a homing beacon so the drones can find it. She just needs time to recharge.”

He blinked slowly. “That’s… kinda cool. Wait, but doesn’t the other one need to charge, too?”

“Oh, no, not yet,” Dara said cheerfully. “She didn’t have nearly as much to do as Tid’hi, so she can stay out a while longer. Do you really think they’re cool?”

He shrugged. “Sure. My mom’s got an old combat drone she rigged into her personal assistant, but I think she stripped the actual combat… stuff.”

“Not the lightning,” Thie grumbled.

“Bolts, actually,” Dara chirped.

“Lightning.”

“No, see, they’re electric bolts, not actual lightning, per say. See, lightning is caused by…”

As she went on, Axilus slowly reached up and put a hand over her speaker, then gently pushed back. “Shhh. Small words. I have a tiny brain.”

“Oh.” Dara fidgeted slightly, then just chirped, “They’re bolts. Not actual lightning.”

“Okay.” He didn’t really get the difference, but she seemed to like explaining, so he’d pretend he got it. “Thanks for the clarification,” he added.

She perked up and bounced a little. “You’re welcome!” she chirped. “Do you know how your mother rigged the drone?”

“You’d have to ask her yourself. Technobabble goes over my head. She’s an engineer, so she uses a lot of it.”

Her eyes went wide. “Could I really?”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Mari likes talking to smart people, she probably won’t mind.”

She let out an excited squeal and clapped rapidly. “Ooh, thank you!”

There was a sharp cough, and Axilus glanced over to see Gerrel helping Xala to his feet and looking vaguely annoyed at them. “Hate to spoil the party, but we still have a mission to finish,” he said dryly. “Come on, before that thing comes back with reinforcements.”

He shuddered and nodded, offering a hand to Thie to help him stand back up. “Yes, sir. How much farther?”

“Not far,” Zaemin said over comms. “Just over that hill a ways.”

“You mean the direction the giant ugly things just came from?” Gerrel’s scowl was obvious even without his face being visible. _“Why?”_

“Look, you have a shotgun and two biotics, you’ll be fine. Just go already.”

“What about those two kids? Where’d they go?”

“The shuttle pilot said they’re already back with him. Kaddi’s trying to get Ganu to stop crying. Don’t worry about them, just go.”

On that incredibly encouraging note, they set off again, Gerrel hovering around Xala like he was worried he was going to faint again. Sure enough, at the top of the hill, they spotted what appeared to be a slightly-crumbling building, maybe the length of a dreadnought away. It had apparently been abandoned long enough for the local flora to start growing over it, but not long enough for it to make any sort of genuine dent in the architecture.

Pretty, though.

The doors were hanging ajar, and they managed to get everyone in single-file, with Dara up in front near Gerrel and Xala while the rest of them trailed behind. “You just need to look for the main computer systems,” Zaemin narrated to them as they walked. “With any luck, they’ll still be working well enough that you can pry something useful out of them. Maybe there’s some resources here we can use.”

“Doubt it, looking at the state of this place, but if you say so,” Gerrel said, shining a flashlight in the different rooms they passed.

Dara wasted no time when they finally located the computer. “Oh, sweet, sweet technology that doesn’t want to eat me… I hope,” she said, fingers flying over the keyboard. Something flashed up on-screen, and she paused momentarily before typing again. “There’s a password, but I can get it, don’t worry,” she chirped. “I’ve got a few commands I can try, just give me a few minutes.”

Gerrel sighed and holstered his gun, scuffing out a spot in the dust for himself to sit in. “Everyone make yourselves comfortable,” he said. “Nothing left for us to do but wait.”

* * *

“You’re shitting me,” Tollak said, mandibles fluttering quickly enough that the vidcomm connection couldn’t quite keep up and showed it like bad stop-animation. “Were they like the things at Marpat’s place?”

“Kinda,” Axilus said, “only, like… bigger. By a lot. Like, I don’t think one of these things would’ve fit in my room back home. They could’ve crushed Stumpy underfoot. Oh, and there were, like, four times as many eyes, and too many legs.”

Tollak shuddered. “Gross. You sure you’re alright, man?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thie put up a barrier. They couldn’t reach me.”

“Tell him I owe him a beer.” He quirked up one mandible. “I mean, I _totally_ could’ve protected you myself if I was there, but he did my job for me.”

Axilus rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right, dude. You’re a sniper, you’d be hopeless up close and personal like those things were.”

“I still have talons, little brother.”

“You’re also still full of yourself.”

Tollak snorted. “Hey, I’m going for a _law degree_ , my dude. I’m the _successful_ child.”

“Hey!” Axilus whined. “I’m taking classes! _History_ major. I can get a degree in that, then when I’m done here I’ll go back to the empire and sign on as a historian for whatever unit I get assigned to.”

Tollak considered this, then bobbed his head. “Okay, I can give you that. Still, I’m still six years older than you. That counts for something.”

“Does not.”

“Does too. And if you listen real hard, you can hear Mom yelling from across space to tell us to stop fighting.”

Axilus laughed, but it trailed off into a low whine, and Tollak nodded. “I know, man. I miss her, too. Hey, Marpat’s turning a hundred next year, think you’ll make it to the party? You can see Mom then.”

Axilus hesitated. “I’m not sure, dude. I mean, I really want to go home, I miss Mom and Dad and my own bed and Cipritine but especially Mom and Dad, but Thie…”

Tollak bobbed his head. “I get it. You’re still worried about him.”

“He’s doing better, but not better enough, y’know? He’s sorta like… Sorta like how Mom gets on the anniversary of Uncle Sol’s death. Everything _seems_ okay, but he’s more moody and distant than he should be.”

“Hey, recovery takes time, yeah? And it’s not like you exactly get space to chill on the Fleet.”

“Yeah, I know…”

Tollak was quiet for a moment, apparently trying to decide if Axilus was going to continue, then shrugged. “Anyway, have you talked to Mom recently?”

Axilus shook his head. “Remember that engineer I told you about? She’s talking to her right now. I was gonna wait until they were done so I could talk to Mom, but…”

“But the big words hurt your tiny brain?”

Axilus scowled, and Tollak laughed. “Easy, baby brother. So you called me instead?”

“Yeah. I mean, we haven’t really talked a lot recently, and I’m… kinda scared of calling Dad…”

Tollak sucked in a breath. “Yeah, I guess that’s reasonable. Oh, you should call Parmat, too, she was asking about you last time I talked to her. I think she’s worried, but doesn’t want anybody to fuss over her and try to comfort her with lies and half-truths.”

Axilus nodded. “I will, promise. You can tell her that.”

Tollak flashed up a “will do” hand gesture, then turned his head as a gray shape drifted into view. “Oh, hey, Cor. Ax, this is Coren Paetdas. Cor, this is my little brother, Axilus.”

“Yo.” Axilus waved a little as Tollak moved so a rather pretty gray crestless could get in the frame. “Tol, I thought you were dating a dude?”

Tollak’s neck flushed faintly. “I had to call it off. He didn’t respect that I wasn’t interested in sex. You should’ve seen Mom when I told her, I think she wanted to tell me to drag him back to her by his crest so she could thrash him.”

“Knowing Mom, I can believe it. Hi, Coren.”

“Hey.” She waved, flicking a mandible. “Don’t mind me. I’m just here to kick Tol off the comms, I promised my grandmother I’d call her on her birthday.”

Axilus held up his hands. “By all means. I’ll go check on how Mom and Dara’Neeya are doing. Talk to you later, Tol.”

“See you, Axi.”

* * *

**TO:** 3-3T2-8448698

 **FROM:** 0-H01-263367

 **SUBJECT:** Report

Request to literally never visit the planet contained in the attached reports again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dara's drones are an allusion to (and Axilus's mistranslation of their names a direct reference to) the drones Wolf and Saint used by Wilhelm in Borderlands: the Pre-Sequel, because Frid likes playing Wilhelm and fell in love with "the boys" instantly.


	16. Look, Another Exposition Dump Filler Chapter. It's Almost like We're Planning Something Sinister and Trying to Pad Out the Emotional Trauma with Silly Stuff... Nah, Can't Be

**Galactic Standard Day 6, Week 5, Month 4, Year 2910**

**(Mid Terran Year 2170 CE)**

Axilus snorted as he walked to the other side of the cubicle Elani had graciously offered to merge with his and Thie’s, trying not to disturb baby Kael sleeping in his cowl. “Now I know how the clan handler feels.”

“The what now?” Zahiya asked, doing his very best to turn and look at him without dislodging Savval from her position perched on his shoulders.

“Old turian rank,” he clarified. “The adult who’s best with kids looks after all the little ones in camp while their parents and older siblings hunt and work.” He glanced around the joint cubicles rather pointedly. Tali’Zorah was trying to help Elani fold a massive blanket, Daro’Xen was sitting in the corner tinkering with some gears and wires, and of course there was baby Kael.

“Ohhh.” Zahiya nodded, hair swishing in and out of his face. “Okay, cool. But why are you the one babysitting?”

“Technically, _I’m_ watchin’ Kael,” Elani called over. “Daro over there came with the science team that’s checkin’ over Thie, an’ she decided she’d rather show Axilus her invention than sit around waitin’ for her ma to get done. And Tali’s here ’cause her dad an’ honorary uncles had stuff to do elsewhere, so she’s helpin’ me watch the baby. Sorta.”

Tali gave a petulant huff. “I’m not a kid! I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Never said you were, did I? Now walk your side of the quilt towards me so’s we can put it away.”

Savval, balanced precariously as she was on Zahiya’s shoulders, grunted and tacked a corner of a quilt that had been falling back into place. “Nice of you to give these guys your cubicle, Elani, but why?”

Elani shrugged. “Don’t really need it much. Put in a transfer request, make my station on the _Nuok_ permanent, so I figgered I didn’t really need my _Neema_ spot.”

“So you’re letting Ax and Thie have a double-wide place instead of give it to somebody else.” Zahiya reached up to hold onto Savval so she wouldn’t fall as he adjusted his stance.

“You ain’t seen how much space turians need, hon. Anybody seen where Jorren went?”

Right on cue, Nahza came skidding in, a large, red-and-black-checkered bundle tucked under one arm. “Sorry,” he panted. “This was buried deeper’n I thought. Here.” He handed the bundle over to Axilus. “Flannel. My mama made it, but it’s itchy on one side, so I was usin’ it for paddin’.”

Axilus took it with a chirp of thanks and moved to put it down. Meanwhile, Zahiya eyed Nahza. “Your name is _Jorren?”_

“Jorren’Nahza!” Elani said cheerfully. “I don’t know _what_ my fool sister was thinkin’.”

“Hey, my mama- wait, _what!?”_ Nahza did some sort of weird flailing-type motion with his arms. “Whaddya mean, _sister?”_

Elani shrugged. “Your mama’s my little sis. I thought you _knew_.”

“No!”

“Wow.” Elani sounded impressed. “Mazzi wasn’t lyin’. You _are_ dumb.”

Nahza made an offended sort of noise, and Axilus rolled his eyes and made his way over to Daro in the corner. “Hey,” he said, spreading out the blanket Nahza had brought. “You doing alright?”

Daro nodded without looking at him, still fiddling with her work. If he had to hazard a guess, Axilus would have to say she was making extensions and improvements to the little robot arm-thing she’d made- with gripping fingers that looked almost suspiciously like his own talons. It was kind of cool, really.

He carefully arranged some pillows over the edge of the blanket, making a sort of nest, then told Daro, “Sorry about all the noise. We’re almost done, they’ll be gone soon. Then you can wait here with me ’til your mom gets back.”

* * *

“… so then Narvilae was the last nation outside the Empire,” Axilus narrated to Daro, doing homework for his pre-spaceflight Palavenian history class. “Empress Vitelia III finally annexed the country in… Shit, what year was that?”

He went back to the text, squinting and trying to find the date. He’d always preferred physical copies of his textbooks because it was easier for him to read that than a terminal screen, but this was what he had. He supposed he _could_ just call his father and ask for help, but he wanted to do it himself.

Besides, he’d sat through more than enough lectures to know that once his father was given a chance to talk about something he enjoyed, like history, there’d be no escape until one of them was called away for dinner.

There was a light clacking noise, and he glanced up to see Daro was leaning towards him, tapping her screwdriver against the floor near his thigh. Once she was sure she had his attention, she paused, then started tapping again, but this time more deliberate, and in a pattern. Five taps, then three, then six, then four. Five, three, six, four…

He facepalmed as the realization hit him. “Oh! Age five, year three hundred and sixty-four. Thanks.” He scribbled it down in his notes, adding, “You’re better at paying attention to this than _I_ am.”

Daro shrugged and went back to her fiddling, just as the blankets over the entrance were drawn back and Thie came hobbling in, shaking in that peculiar way he did when he was trying to suppress a cough. Axilus flicked a mandible in greeting, not looking away from his terminal screen. “Hey, Thie.”

Thie twitched in acknowledgement, then flopped down into the pile of pillows shoved up against one side of the cubicle to make room for Axilus to stretch out. Liilo’Xen trailed in after him, shaking her head. “Hello, Axilus,” she said as Daro hurriedly got to her feet and went running to her with a little chirp of “Mommy!” She crouched to hug her daughter, asking, “Daro wasn’t any trouble, was she?”

“Her? Nah. She’s been working on the robot thing the whole time. It’s really neat. How’d everything go on your end?”

Liilo shrugged and gestured for Daro to gather her things. “As well as it could have. The amplifier is stable, and aside from the migraines the doctors say he’s been getting, his physical condition is holding up well.” She glanced at Thie, then sighed. “Oh, and he’s got a cold. There’s that, of course, though with how often you marines wander around without helmets, I suppose that’s to be expected.”

Axilus snorted and looked at Thie. “Told you that’d happen.”

“Shut up,” Thie groaned, rather weakly if you asked Axilus.

Daro scooped her tools and parts into a small satchel and went trotting back to Liilo, and Liilo took her hand with a little bow to Axilus. “Thank you again for staying with her. I know she doesn’t talk much, but she really does like you, so it means a lot that you’re willing to spend time with her.”

Axilus grinned. “No problem, really. She’s better company than you’d think.”

“I’m glad. Come on, Daro, it’ll be your bedtime soon.”

Daro looked up at her mother. Axilus couldn’t see her face, but he instinctively knew she was making a disgusted look.

Liilo rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. Tell you what, if you go to bed without a fuss tonight, you can have the old vid-player that doesn’t work from the commons to take apart, alright?”

Daro considered this, then gave her mother a little thumbs-up.

Liilo shook her head and muttered, “Keelah se’lai…” She turned to leave, calling over her shoulder, “Thank you again, Axilus. Thie, please do try to avoid overexerting yourself, it aggravates your amplifier.”

Thie made a vague noise of acknowledgement, and Liilo drifted away, Daro trotting after her. No sooner had the blankets over the entrance swished back into place than Thie rolled onto his side, eyeing Axilus with a grumbling moan. “Glad _somebody_ was having fun.”

 Axilus snorted. “I was doing _homework_ , dude.”

“But you weren’t getting prodded by Tuzh and his cronies.”

Axilus raised a brow plate. “‘Cronies’? You’ve been hanging around Gerrel too much, bro.”

Thie groaned and rolled back over. “You don’t have a thermal pack taped to the back of your head.”

“True enough.” He shrugged and went back to his homework. “I don’t suppose you’d happen to know the date Empress Oriaris I declared all of Palaven under her reign?”

“Literally what reason would I have for knowing that?”

“Spent too much time around my dad? Iunno.” He clicked his mandibles absent-mindedly as he trawled the text. “Oh, here it is… Wait, shit, is that..?” He checked the date, then just about swallowed his tongue. “Spirits, that’s today!”

Thie grunted as Axilus dropped his notes and lunged for his bag. “What is?”

“Unification Day,” he said, digging for his state-issued identification. “The anniversary of planetary unification under the Empire. It’s _the_ imperial holiday. There’s parades, and speeches, and demonstrations, and feasts, and-”

He let out a sharp, distressed trill as a realization hit him. _“And I’m missing everything!”_ he wailed, furiously typing the extranet address he’d learned by heart when he was nine into his terminal.

Completely unperturbed, Thie just blinked slowly at him. “Pardon my lack of enthusiasm, but why, exactly, is this so important to you?”

Axilus paused, talons hovering above the interface, then resumed typing, shaking his head. “It just _is_ , okay?”

Thie considered, then shrugged. “Whatever. So, like, what do you _do?_ Do you just… watch propaganda all day?”

“It is _not_ propaganda. It’s celebratory material approved by the Empire for… Okay, _maybe_ it’s propaganda, but it’s not _bad_ or anything! There’s this huge parade in Cipritine, and the military does all these demonstrations around the Empire, and there’s parties for the younger kids to go to in the parks, and the Empress gives a speech- shit, what time is that?”

While he hurried to check when the speech was, Thie tilted his head. “Empress? I thought you had a primarch.”

“It’s complicated,” he said absently, tapping his talons against his thigh impatiently as he waited for the page to load. “See, the Primarch deals with everything beyond our atmosphere- interplanetary and interspecies political stuff. The Empress handles everything on Palaven itself. She’s all the domestic relations, make sure all the countries are getting along and the clans aren’t feuding. She doesn’t really actually have that much power off Palaven, but it’s a respect thing.”

The page loaded, and he heaved a sigh of relief. He still had several hours until the big speech. Thie, apparently having decided to just give up on ever understanding turian politics, carefully sat up, then slowly undid the buckles on his helmet, placed it on the floor, and promptly faceplanted into the pillows with a loud groan. “I thought you hated speeches,” he said, voice muffled somewhat by the fluff mound.

“Well, yeah,” Axilus admitted. “But it’s worth it to see _her_.”

Thie turned his head to look at him again, raising an eyebrow. Axilus tilted his head indignantly, then grabbed his terminal and moved so Thie could see his screen. “Here.” He opened a new tab and tapped in a search query, then waited as images of a silvery-gray crestless turian with delicate red markings slowly pulled up on screen. He scanned the results, looking for just the right one, then selected a picture of the woman in full ceremonial gear: a headdress of thin _kori_ spines fanning out around her head, white-gold chains and pearly hoops dripping from her mandibles and neck, and long, billowing robes elegantly draped over a delicately graceful form. He heard Thie suck in a breath, and he said in a voice soft with nothing short of awe, “Empress Consetiria the Radiant, twenty-seventh of the line of Lanelia the Peacemaker.”

“She’s _beautiful_ ,” Thie whispered. Then he paused, then held up a finger and added, “Not in a xenophilic way, but I mean. She has a nice aesthetic.”

Axilus beamed. “You should see her son.” He went back to the search bar and typed in another query, then settled back as the pictures loaded, this time of a broad-shouldered, sharp-taloned brown crested in dress uniform. “Staff Commander Aciustor Severik, heir apparent to the Palavenian throne.”

Thie groaned and put his face back down in the pillows. “Stop it.”

Axilus snickered. “Did I mention he’s also a bachelor? And openly bisexual?”

“ _Axilus_.”

“I’ve heard he’s been with asari before,” he teased. “Maybe he’d go for quarians, too, who knows?”

“You’re terrible and I hate you.”

Axilus let out a barking laugh, then snorted and shook his head. “I mean, according to the rules, he has to either formally renounce his eligibility for the throne or select a turian who identifies as a woman to take it with him, ’cause we only have reigning _empresses_ , no emperors, and obviously we’re not going to let an _alien_ run our homeworld, but we’ve had plenty of rulers with alien consorts. And _more_ than plenty of turian consorts, too.” He let out a sigh that could only be considered dreamy, letting his mind wander. “ _There’s_ a job I wouldn’t mind… Royal consort to the heir apparent. Or better, to the _emperor_ …”

Admittedly, it was a fantasy he’d entertained often, probably to the level of “favorite daydream.” Aciustor was just… _Aciustor Severik_. Rich, handsome, one of the biggest sweethearts in the galaxy according to everyone who met him, a military officer, in line to the throne if he ever picked a suitable co-ruler… Axilus would be lying if he said he didn’t nurse one hell of a crush. On a rational level, he knew the odds of it ever happening were astronomically against him, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but hope.

He didn’t notice he’d slipped into fantasy until something soft connected with the side of his head, and he jumped, then shook his head with a snort and glanced around. “What the fuck…” He craned his neck and looked for the source, then reached out and grabbed a pillow from where it had landed after bouncing off him. “Really, dude?”

Thie groaned. “Put the pictures away.”

“Aww, are you too gay to handle His Royal Highness?”

Of course, Axilus himself was _also_ too gay to handle His Royal Highness, but he certainly wasn’t about to tell _Thie_ that.

Thie just groaned again. “I’m not gay!”

“Tell Han’s biceps that.”

Thie made a very pathetic sort of noise, and Axilus just laughed. You know, like an asshole.

There was motion out of the corner of Axilus’s eye, and he turned to see the blankets had been pulled back and three quarian faces, two familiar and one not so much, were looking in.

Admiral Gerrel grinned. “I heard the sound of mockery. Are we making fun of Haasn for insisting he’s not gay when he obviously is?”

Lieutenant Hazir, the _Neema_ ’s third in command, slowly turned to stare at him. “Why is that your go-to?”

“You need to go on missions more, mate. It’s a safe bet. Anyway, we’re going to go do something that’s probably amazingly stupid, you wanna come watch?”

Axilus raised a brow plate. “What?”

Gerrel jerked his head at the quarian Axilus didn’t recognize. “Rael here thinks we can hook up Zaemin’s neural net to the Neema’s interior security. We’re gonna test it out.”

The third quarian, Rael apparently, shrugged. “I was checking the salarians’ notes. They hooked him up with a full experimental security suite, plus instructions. The scientific possibilities-”

Gerrel flung a hand across Rael’s mouth, making a shushing noise. “Shhh. Big word make tiny marine brain want do shooty.”

Hazir snorted. “Leaving off articles makes it extra condescending.”

Rael shook him off. “Yes, I noticed.”

Axilus blinked slowly. “Are you guys drunk?”

“Just a bit,” Gerrel said, ominously chipper.

Axilus shook his head with a flick of his mandibles. “I’ll be there in a bit, I have a few things to check first.”

“Suit yourself. Come on, mentlegen.”

Gerrel and company disappeared, and Axilus snorted softly. “Y’know, I feel like I shouldn’t be surprised, and yet.”

Thie grumbled. “It’s _Gerrel_. He was weird even _before_ he made admiral.”

“Nah, man, it’s not just him. Whole command here is just so… Iunno. Not really _unprofessional_ , but definitely off-the-wall.”

“We can’t all be from military empires.”

“Shame, really.” He hummed good-naturedly as Thie shoved him weakly in protest. Typing in a new address, he added, “Are you gonna want a few minutes alone with His Royal Highness?”

This time, Thie threw his helmet at him, and he only just barely managed to duck in time, laughing. “Chill, dude, it’s no big deal. I mean, I’m pretty sure most of the pictures you see of him are airbrushed anyway, and it’s not like even most turians have a shot with him…”

Thie stared at him for a long moment. “You’ve had to cheer yourself up about probably never getting to meet him before, haven’t you?”

“Almost twice a month since I turned twelve.”

“That’s really gay, Axilus.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this or not, Thie my dude, but _I’m_ gay. Or, well, bi. But still, not straight.”

Thie just snorted and swatted at him, and he chuckled, going back to his terminal. “Still though, you should probably, like, stay here and lie down for a while. You’re sick.”

“You say that like it’s ever stopped me before.”

“Dude. I _will_ call Aela.”

Thie grunted, and Axilus flickered his mandibles slowly. “Okay then, I’ll call _my mom_.”

Thie immediately rolled away from him and hastily yanked a blanket out of the pile to pull on top of himself. “I’m good.”

He snorted. “Yeah, that’s what I thought…”

Absent-mindedly reaching over to grab Thie’s helmet from where it had landed, he stifled a yawn and tapped in the passcode to his email once the page had loaded. His literature professor had said she’d send out the homework assignment sometime today, and he may as well check for it while he had his terminal up.

Once that page had loaded, however, even the vaguest thoughts of returning Thie’s helmet to him had flown out of his head in favor of the top message.

_Fwd: Thank you for your purchase!_

From his mother.

Dropping the helmet, he hurriedly clicked into the message and read what his mother had added to what she’d forwarded:

_Axi,_

_Your father and I pooled our discounts this year. There’s a list of what you’re getting in the receipt, I’ll send you the shipping notification when I get it. Your brother’s getting one, too. Let us know when it gets to the Fleet, and how everything works out. We’re also getting both of you sample boxes of the food from the celebrations today. Give Thie a hug from me. Stay safe! I love you <3_

_Mari_

Axilus must have read and reread his mother’s note ten times, dwelling forlornly over the last sentence in particular, before finally scrolling down to see what his parents had gotten for him.

He’d barely gotten halfway through the list before he was covering his mouth with his hands and making a high-pitched squeal of glee. “They still love me!”

Thie grunted. “Am I missing something?”

“Whenever there’s a big holiday, all the high-ranks in the Hierarchy get special discounts on stuff,” he explained, aware he was probably going a little too quick for Thie to keep up with but too excited to slow down. “I mean, there’s baseline discounts for everyone, but you can get extra discounts depending on your family, and your job, and your rank. Like Dad’s a super-elite officer and a Madelivio, so he gets really good discounts on, like, armor and guns and stuff. And Mom’s an Actinus engineer, so she gets ’em for tech stuff. And this year they put their discounts together and got me an’ Tol a bunch of stuff each and-” He broke off, covering his mouth to squeal again.

“They’re sending shield upgrades and armor mods and-” He let out a rather noisy gasp. “Ohhhh man, there’s a model of shotgun that _just_ came out _this year_ , and…” He squinted, then opened a new tab to look up one of the items. “Uh… _OMStheygotmeanewomni-tool!”_

He was pretty sure Thie wasn’t even listening anymore, but he kept going through the list anyway. It felt like one of his mother’s tight hugs, the ones that came with a lot of kisses and happy, loving subvocals, neatly programmed into an email.

He thought for a moment, then tapped the button to reply to the message. The _Neema_ officers could wait a few minutes longer.

* * *

 

 **TO:**  3-3T2-8448698

 **FROM:**  0-H01-263367

 **SUBJECT:** New Asset?

Testing technological possibilities put forward by 0-000-2447749. Stand by.


	17. [Hacker Voice] I'm In

**Galactic Standard Day 6, Week 5, Month 4, Year 2910**

**(Mid Terran Year 2170 CE)**

“Am I still allowed to have second thoughts?” Zaemin complained as Gerrel trotted back into the clean room, stupid smile still plastered on his face. “Because I'm having second thoughts. Or probably tenth at this point, I think.”

Gerrel cheerily patted his shoulder, just barely remembering not to disturb any of the numerous cables draped around his friend's shoulders and down his back, and chirped, “Nope!”, complete with popping his lips around the 'p', before plopping back into the chair he'd pulled aside before. Hazir drifted in to stand at his side, and Rael, contrasting Gerrel as well as ever, neatly took a seat at the cluttered table Ashalla sat at, tapping away at his terminal again as though he'd never left. “Sorry, _xid'ha_ , you already said yes, _Neema_ rules say no take-backsies.”

Zaemin grimaced. “Why did I let you assholes talk me into this, anyway?”

“You were drunk.”

“And now I'm not.” Ashalla rolled her eyes and passed Zaemin another can labelled in a language Gerrel's translator didn't recognize, prompting a mildly surprised noise from the former admiral followed by a grudging, “You know this isn't going to last.”

Rael hummed, tapping a few keys. “It won't be uncomfortable, Saar. We've already made sure of that.”

“First off, don't call me Saar.” Zaemin popped open the can and took a swig, shuddering at its apparently-awful taste before continuing, “And second, Ashalla _always_ tells me it won't hurt.”

“Does it ever?”

“Not in the way you think, but kind of, yeah.”

Ashalla snorted. “Or maybe you're just a _shoda.”_

“Ha! She called someone _else_ a _shoda_ for once!”

“Shut up, you _shoda,”_ she said, ignoring Gerrel's answering groan.

“Look, it's to satisfy my scientific curiosity, okay?” Rael rolled his eyes and tapped a few keys, then looked up. “Everything's green on my end. Ashalla, did you pick up the ODSC cable from requisitions?”

“Yep.” Ashalla held up a thick, candy-striped wire with a rather bulky-looking connector attached to one end and a sleek USB on the other, tapped at her terminal for another few seconds, and then stood.

Zaemin wearily regarded the cable for a moment. “I can't believe we're actually doing this. If this overloads something, I'm coming back to haunt your sorry asses.”

It was probably a valid concern, seeing as the delicate external access panel on the side of his head was already packed full of USBs and extensions attaching him to various bits of medical equipment, both Rael and Ashalla's terminal, and a few other bits of technology that Gerrel's poor marine brain couldn't quite comprehend the function of. Most of the connections were just to expand his processor's capabilities by giving access to a server, Rael had said, instead of forcing everything they were going to do to rely on just the hardware inside Zaemin's head, or something to that effect. Honestly, he didn't understand it at all.

Which was probably why he wasn't the one running the experiment, to be honest, and that was probably the most intelligent decision Ashalla had made recently. After all, hooking a guy up to a dreadnought's security network just to see what would happen was… well.

Suffice it to say, this would be _interesting._

There was only one empty slot in the panel, just above Zaemin's jawline, that Gerrel supposed was for the ODCB-or-whatever cable Ashalla was holding. “With any luck,” Rael had said, “this will work.”

Of course, as soon as Ashalla moved near Zaemin's head with the cable, Zaemin recoiled like she was holding a knife instead of a wire.

Ashalla puffed out her cheeks. “Please don't be a baby about this, Saar.”

“I'm not being a baby about it!” Zaemin didn't look away from the wire, staring nearly crosseyed at it to keep it in focus. “I just- I don't like this, seriously, can I wimp out? Please?”

“That's called being a baby. You're going to be just fine, Saar, I swear.” Ashalla reached for him again and Zaemin jerked away hard enough that he nearly fell out of his chair. “Okay, seriously?”

Gerrel got to his feet. “I'll hold him.”

“Oh, you _traitor.”_

“Hey man, last time I saw Rael get this pumped about something, we wound up with a baby Zorah.” He grinned. “This is gonna be _great.”_

Zaemin finally looked away from the cord to bark something at Gerrel, only to yelp (rather loudly) when Ashalla seized the opportunity and jammed the USB into his head- or, the port in it, at least- with a smooth _click._ His entire body tensed as Ashalla’s terminal made a cheerful chiming sound, apparently to let her know the connection was successful.

She just rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat again, tapping at the terminal. “I haven't turned it on yet, you idiot, just relax.”

He relaxed just barely a fraction, expression warping back into a scowl at Gerrel's shit-eating grin, and grumbled, “You're an asshole, Han.” Gerrel cheerfully nodded.

Ashalla muttered something under her breath and typed away at her terminal, wearing a similarly-focused expression to Rael's, who was doing the same thing, then clicked a few times and looked back up. “All right, I've got everything set up. Ready?”

Zaemin took a deep breath and shook his head. “Not even close.”

“Well, too bad, because I'm turning it on.” She tapped a key.

Immediately, Zaemin's entire body went rigid, shoulders hiking up to his jaw, eyes going wide, and a shrill whine just barely managing to hiss past clenched teeth. From where Gerrel was sitting, it sounded like he'd started hyperventilating, and he could hear the armrest on the chair groan as Zaemin's cybernetic hand clamped down on it with the force of two or three krogan. “Toomuchtoomuch _toomuch-!”_

Ashalla muttered a swear in a language Gerrel didn't recognize and typed again, looking nearly as frantic as Xala clearly felt, then tapped another few keys and glanced over towards him. “I throttled the connection, is that better?” She waited for him to give a slow, jerky nod, then heaved a sigh and turned back to her terminal, tapping around again. “Too much optical input,” she explained upon noticing Gerrel's quizzical (and perhaps slightly murderously concerned) expression. “I...” She chewed on her lip, then admitted, “I forgot to cut the connection down to just the test circuit. He was hooked up to the entire _Neema_ for a minute.”

Gerrel couldn't help but laugh, less at the situation and more at the look on Ashalla's face. “Holy _shit,_ Ashalla! The whole damn ship?” She nodded and he laughed again, rather guiltily as it was, seeing as Xala was sitting next to him looking like he was about to faint.

Zaemin exhaled slowly, the tension slowly leaking out of his posture until he was more or less relaxed again. His eyes were still wide and darting around randomly, focusing on things Gerrel couldn't see- but then, considering the nature of the experiment, he supposed that made sense. “I- Ash- I- uh- whoa-” He took a deep breath in, then tried again. “I- I don't- suppose you could, uh- could you- could you possibly-?”

“I get it, I get it.”

Zaemin fell silent as Ashalla fiddled around again, then breathed a sigh of relief, eyes finally focusing again. He blinked a few times, looking just a bit disoriented, then glanced at Xala- who had nearly fallen out of his chair during his initial panic and hadn't quite made it back yet- and offered a weary thumbs-up. “All's good, Xal, I'm fine, I promise.”

Rael made a noise of contentment from his side of the table. “Connection's stable,” he announced to the group, studiously watching whatever feed his terminal was providing. “All right, now here's where it gets tricky. Saar, can you describe what you're seeing right now?”

“Uh...” Zaemin's eyes unfocused again and for a moment, he almost looked lost in thought. “It's- oh!” The corners of his mouth quirked up slightly. “It's- it's the room we're in.” Then he frowned. “Keelah, I look _weird_ with all these cords sticking outta my head.”

“You always look weird,” Gerrel chirped, to which Zaemin casually responded by kicking him in the shin.

“Good, good.” Rael clicked his tongue, resolutely ignoring the antics of the two in front of him, then asked, “All right, how many feeds do you have?”

“Uh… I think twelve? It says twelve in the corner.”

“Good, good… Can you switch inputs?”

“Uh, do what now?”

“You can only see one feed right now, right?” He waited a moment, then clarified, “You're only seeing through one camera, right?”

Zaemin blinked. “Oh. Yeah, just the one.”

“Can you switch?”

“Uh...” He looked dazed for a moment, then shook his head. “I don't know how.”

Ashalla blew a lock of hair out of her face and clicked something. “There. Try it again.”

Zaemin blinked, then jumped slightly, making an odd squeaking noise before saying, “Oh, that worked. Okay, uh- I _think_ it's the- the hall- it's the hallway outside, right?”

Rael didn't answer, but nodded to Gerrel and motioned towards the door, mouthing, _“Stick your head out the door.”_ So Gerrel did.

Somewhere behind him, he heard Zaemin make a surprised noise, followed by a declaration of, “I _knew_ it! Your hair is _awful,_ go get it shaved, you asshole.” Meanwhile, he simply turned his head, nodded to the turian standing a few feet shy of the camera's field of view, and cheerily chirped, “If you'd've gotten here a few seconds earlier, _you_ could've been the guinea pig for this.”

Madelivio just blinked very slowly and answered, _“What?”_

Gerrel shook his head. “Nothing important. C'mon in, we got started without you.”

The turian blinked very slowly at him again, mandibles fluttering weakly for a moment. Then he apparently decided not to argue and followed Gerrel back into the room.

Zaemin grinned at approximately no one as the two filed in, Gerrel going for his seat and Madelivio trying to find somewhere out of the way that he could stand. “I figured out where the third one is!” he said, sounding far too proud of himself. “It's the workout room right down the hall from here, I can see Elani in it. Oh, she waved.”

At the mention of Elani's name, Rael jumped, knocking his keyboard askew. “Wait, did you say Elani?” His eyebrows furrowed, concern seeping into his voice. “Is Tali there? She's supposed to be watching Tali, is she there? Is she _okay?”_

“What?” Zaemin blinked a few times and then raised an eyebrow at Rael momentarily before focusing back on the security feed again. “Uh, yeah, Tali's there, and she's fine. She's… spotting Elani, looks like.”

“Tali's too young to be spotting Elani!”

“Chill, she looks just fine.”

Gerrel snorted, and Rael scowled at him over the top of the monitor. “Oh, shut up. Just wait until _you're_ a father.”

“Oh, that's rich.” Gerrel made an odd noise, a snort gone wrong thanks to the mountain of scar tissue in his nose, and dramatically rolled his eyes. “C'mon, man, you really think _I'm_ ever gonna be a father? Get real.”

He tried to pay no mind to Xala's quiet protest, and decided to pretend it hadn't happened at all, because the idea of Xala eventually wanting a kid was, quite frankly, too terrifying for his brain to process.

Rael rolled his eyes and continued to ask Zaemin all sorts of inane questions about the feeds- listing what he could see, testing zoom and pan capability, trying out the slow-mo replay function- then turned to Ashalla with a nod. “Looks like it works.”

“Good.” Ashalla tapped a few more keys and Zaemin jumped, then blinked rapidly a few times. “Then we can start testing the other functions.”

 _“What_ other functions?” Zaemin gave the two technicians a cross look. “You told me we were just testing the security uplink!”

“I told you we were going to be testing an upgrade, Saar,” Rael smoothly replied, “and that’s exactly what we’re doing. The security uplink was only part of it.”

“Then what’s the rest of it?”

Ashalla clicked twice and Zaemin jumped again.

“Oh.” He briefly went crosseyed, then started gazing around in what looked like wonder. “Oh. Oh, that’s _cool.”_

“Mind telling the rest of us non-cyber-y eye-y people what’s going on?” Gerrel paused, then amended, “Non-cyber-y brain-y, more like,” after remembering that he, himself, had some cybernetics in his eye. Mostly lens and nerve augmentations to make everything work with his helmet scanners, but still, cyber-y eye-y things.

“I feel like I’m in a video game,” was Zaemin’s only response.

Rael rolled his eyes. “We installed a heads-up display module along with the security suite,” he explained as Zaemin continued looking around in mute wonder. “Obvious tactical advantages aside, it will also make it a lot easier for him to navigate in general, especially aboard ships as large as the _Neema_ or during shore leave, keep track of goals and objectives for whatever purpose, and keep an eye, quite literally, on squad vitals.”

Ashalla shrugged and mildly added, “A tech from the _Qworai_ gave us the idea. Took her two hours to remember what she was even trying to say, but it was a good idea.”

“Engineer, about a head taller than me, named Dara’Neeya?”

“You’re good. How’d you know?”

Gerrel shrugged. “She’s ironically hard to forget.”

Ashalla snorted, then went back to her terminal and hummed. “All right, I’m bringing the bio hub online. Mind giving us a quick glance-over, Saar? To make sure it works.”

“What? Oh, sure.” Zaemin blinked a few times, then squinted at the group in front of him in turn. “Huh. Madelivio, might wanna drop by the medbay, says your leg’s being weird again. Uh… huh. Han, this thing says you haven’t taken your meds in, like… a month?” He paused. “Probably shoulda kept that to myself, huh. Uh… Xal, can you relax? This thing’s marking your pulse in the red and it’s kinda freaking me out a little.”

Gerrel gritted his teeth. “I wonder why that could be.”

“Oh.” Zaemin looked down. “Sorry.”

He didn’t get to hear what he said next, however, because Xala immediately grabbed him by the shoulders and started shaking him. “What have I _told_ you about _taking your medications_ , Han!? How many times do I have to _remind_ you in a month, _kee-lah!”_

Gerrel groaned, reaching up to pry Xala’s hands off. “I know, Xal, I _know_ , I’m a mess and you’re mad at me, I’m in trouble, believe me, I _get_ it. Don’t suppose the ‘my memory is garbage’ excuse is getting me out of this one, huh?”

Xala gave him a dark look, and Gerrel put his hands up. “Fine, fine, I’ll go take them right now.”

“And we should probably pull the plug on the experiment for now,” Rael decided aloud, tapping a few keys to terminate whatever programs he was running through Zaemin’s cybernetics. “I should get Tali back home. It’s nearly her bedtime, and I have work to do.”

“Fair enough.” Zaemin made a weird squeaking sort of noise as Ashalla started removing the cables from his head, flinching and reaching up to massage the area around the panel. “Sorry, Saar. Kept you plugged in a little long. Go by the medbay, they’ll give you something for the headache.”

“You can come with us,” Xala offered, still giving Gerrel the evil eye. His arms were crossed and his lower lip slightly out in a moody pout which said, _“There’s no way in any kind of hell you’re getting laid tonight.”_ Gerrel privately cursed his atrocious luck and started preemptively going through ideas on how to win back Xala’s favor before the day was over.

Zaemin sighed and went to stand, still rubbing at the panel. “At least this’ll be useful next week.”

“Yeah, at least.”

* * *

**TO:**  3-3T2-8448698

 **FROM:**  0-H01-263367

 **SUBJECT:**  Re: New Asset?

Asset confirmed, though sustainability is questionable. Report and testing log attached.

Requesting examination of enclosed security footage by trained tech squad. Footage from 18:38:12-19:51:49 not present; suspect malicious tampering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smol update before a big one. Hope you guys are ready for next week's update. :3c


	18. In the Immortal Words of Varric Tethras, "Well, Shit."

**Galactic Standard Day 3, Week 6, Month 4, Year 2910**

**(Mid Terran Year 2170 CE)**

Zaemin rolled his shoulders and shook his head. Keelah, it felt good to finally be down on the ground. He’d finally gotten so fed up with being cooped up on the _Neema_ that he’d broken down and finished his paperwork for reinstatement into the marines proper, and Gerrel, bless his heart, had happily agreed to let him go down on the very next mission.

“The very next mission,” it turned out, was kind of boring, but he was so glad to be off the ship, that hardly mattered. A patrol ship had detected transmissions coming from a remote planet, a system away from a small-time port. The port authorities, when Patrol had inquired about the transmissions, had said there used to be pirate activity that way, but there hadn’t been any in decades. The Fleet had agreed to check it out in exchange for fuel, and there they were.

The transmissions had turned out to be coming from a small, clearly abandoned base. The architecture was distinctly salarian, the sort Zaemin had seen in the oldest parts of Mannovai- meant for being shipped around easily, while still being able to withstand anything a new colony might throw at it. But it was very far out of the way of salarian space, and didn’t have any hallmarks of an attempted colony. No, it was more like a military base, transplanted for some unknown purpose. So, yeah, pirates, Zaemin figured.

The base felt like they’d been dropped onto the set of a horror movie. Salarians liked their architecture to be very open, so they could pack up and flee at a moment’s notice. As a result, the wind swept through the empty halls, making an eerie moaning sound that was only ever muffled at best. The surrounding environment had long since started to reclaim the area, with plants and fungi trying their level best to break apart the walls and grow. Though they’d only encountered a few handfuls of insects and a couple pyjaks roaming the base, everyone had weapons drawn, and Tavvi, the youngest marine in the small recon squad they’d sent down, kept taking her finger on and off the trigger. Zaemin couldn’t help but feel just a bit cheated that of all the missions he could have gotten, it had to be the psych thriller flick.

Initial scans had suggested the base ran on a self-sufficient grid, mostly solar power with some geothermal in underground sections. Savval had noticed security cameras on the outside, so Ashalla, managing comms back on the Neema, had suggested they first try to find the main power room and troubleshoot until they had security and lights up and running. From there, they could plug Zaemin into the system and see what was up.

Not that he _liked_ that plan, but he’d been outvoted. The experiment can’t go to waste, Gerrel had said. What would Rael say, Gerrel had said. You’re an asshole, Zaemin had said.

Unfortunately, he still hadn’t finished filling out the paperwork to return to the Admiralty Board, so rank had won out. The only thing that made the concept better was knowing that sooner or later, Xala would find out and give Gerrel grief for it. Small blessings.

They were walking single-file, with Madelivio in the lead to scent out danger, followed by Zaemin himself, then Savval, Tavvi, Yaana, Zahiya, and Haasn bringing up the rear. A fairly small squad, but reasonably so, given they were only supposed to scout it out. Rael had suggested that if the base were truly abandoned, then it was likely just some equipment in its death throes, so there wasn’t really a need for a full deployment. Zaemin couldn’t really see a whole lot around Madelivio’s bulk, and frankly, that was perfectly fine by him. If anything jumped them, he’d be more than happy to let it get a faceful of startled, enraged turian. Besides, if what Haasn claimed about the Madelivio line was true, there was something very reassuring about having an invulnerable tank leading the way.

Behind him, Savval cursed. “Kid, would you stop playing with that trigger? You’re gonna shoot one of us!”

Tavvi squeaked. “But the safety’s on!”

“ _Then your finger don’t need to be on the trigger_ , now, _do_ it?”

Further back, Zahiya snorted. “Careful, Donya, I think you’re channeling your inner Nahza.”

“I’m _gonna_ channel my inner Lia’Adas and knock your blinking block off.”

There was a round of snorts, and Madelivio called, “You can chill, Savval, I think I found the place.”

Zaemin bent over to try to see past him. “What makes you say that?”

Madelivio’s nasal plates clicked together as he snuffled. “Power cells.” _Sniff, sniff_. “Seven… No, eight paces ahead, and on the left.” _Sniiiiiiiff_. “Very faint, so I didn’t pick it up earlier. Must be real old.”

Tavvi made a vaguely confused sound. “What do they need power cells for? They have solar, don’t they?”

“Must be to store some of the solar power for night work,” Zaemin mused. “They did something similar in Mannovai, but with hydro, not solar. Not a lot of room for solar panels there, too much plant life intertwined with the city. You wouldn’t happen to be able to smell security nodes, would you, Madelivio?”

Madelivio snorted. “You wish. But there’s probably one in there, anyway. I mean, if it’s the main power room, why _wouldn’t_ they have stuff for security inside?”

“Point. Alright, lead the way.”

Madelivio bobbed his head and lengthened his strides, trotting ahead several steps before turning and waiting outside the right door. When Zaemin walked up, the big turian was tilting his head this way and that, trying to make out writing etched on the wall. “It’s salarian,” he reported slowly, “but it’s real faded. My translator’s not getting anything.”

Zaemin puffed out a sigh, going to inspect the door and see if either the automatic control was still operating or there was a way to wedge it open. “Great. Just when I was hoping we were done with the horror clichés. Does anybody see a sound crew or something?”

“Chill, Zaemin,” Ashalla said over the comm. “You guys and the solar panels are the only heat sources down there.”

“Yeah, I bet,” he grumbled, using his shotgun like a crowbar to pry the door open. It was slow going for a minute, and then he remembered he literally had a robot arm that the salarians had sworn up and down they’d specced to be ten times as strong as his normal one (he was pretty sure it had been a joke taken to its logical conclusion) and wrenched the damn thing open himself in a matter of seconds. He made a mental note to send a thank-you letter to Waedrok and company.

Zahiya whistled. “Hey, Donya, can you do that?”

“I just have the forearm, genius. He’s got the full… uh… thing. Yeah.”

“Very scientific.”

“Listen, I _will_ throw your sorry ass into the sun.”

Zahiya clicked his tongue. “Kinky.”

“You are not affiliated with me.”

“Then why’d you ask me to go on Pilgrimage with you?”

“I needed a scapegoat.”

Zaemin rolled his eyes. “Would you two lovebirds quit squabbling already and help? Zahiya, you and Haasn stand guard. Madelivio, go find that leak you mentioned, see if it’ll compromise the power supply. Savval and Tavvi, go look for the ‘on’ switch, and me and Yaana will look for a security node.”

There was a chorus of affirmatives, and everyone separated. Madelivio stuck his nose in the air and inhaled so deep Zaemin was surprised he didn’t suck down his own teeth, then trotted off, the armor on his feet clacking sharply against the floor. Savval and Tavvi went to the left, so Zaemin took Yaana to the right. Cover more ground that way.

As they walked off, Zahiya grumbled, “What are we supposed to be on guard for, anyway? The wind?”

“Your sense of humor, maybe,” Haasn suggested, earning a sharp snort from Savval and a rasping bark of a laugh from Madelivio.

Zaemin cracked a grin, continuing on towards the wall. The salarians at Mannovai had had all of their terminals and other tech wired into the wall to save space; this place would probably be similar.

As he shone his flashlight around, Madelivio came in over the comm. “Found the leak, sir. Everything’s evaporated by now. Hardly anything left in the cell. Since the sun’s out, the power should be good to go once they find the switch.”

“Speaking of,” Savval chimed in, “Give us a sec to figure out what’s what, and we’ll have everything up and running.”

“Good. Thanks, you two.” Zaemin squinted, then reached to move some plants away from a round, vaguely familiar-looking shape on the wall.

“What does a security node look like, sir?” Yaana asked, moving in to help him.

There was a startled yelp, then a loud hum. Lights embedded in the ceiling flickered to life, the various equipment in the room started “talking” in beeps and whirrs, and, right in front of them, the shape on the wall blinked, then generated five hovering screens, one large one with two smaller on either side, with a holo-keyboard at about his chest level.

He grinned and turned his flashlight off. “Like _that_ , Lila’Yaana. Ashalla, can you get in?”

“Two minutes, tops,” Ashalla chirped. “I’ll funnel down the input to one channel at a time before I plug you in.”

“Thanks.” He holstered his shotgun, then cleared off a section of the ceiling that had fallen down and took a seat. “Alright everyone, come on over here.”

Haasn and Zahiya made it back first. “I thought you needed a bunch of cables and junk to get hooked in?” Zahiya asked.

He shook his head and tapped the side of his neck. “Wireless adapter. Special Projects whipped it up in a couple hours.”

“Oh. Cool.” Zahiya promptly plopped down on the floor, crossed his legs, and almost got stepped on by Madelivio.

Madelivio yelped in surprise, having just been about to set his foot down where Zahiya’s back now was, then shook his head and leaped over him in a single hop. “So why are you gonna do the thing?”

Zaemin shrugged. “Because looking through all the security cameras is a lot easier than combing through the entire base by hand.”

Madelivio considered this, making room for Savval and Tavvi coming up behind him, then bobbed his head. “Yeah, that makes sense. Any idea what we’re looking for?”

Literally a half-second after he opened his mouth to respond, he was smashed in the face by a sudden clusterbomb of images, everything jockeying for position at the forefront of his field of view. He jerked back, hitting his head on the wall behind him and slamming his eyes shut, though that did little to lessen the effects. “Dammit, Ashalla!” he yelped as the images slowly settled and processed. “I thought you said you were going to cut it down!”

“Believe it or not,” Ashalla said, sounding distinctly bored, “I _did_.”

He opened his eyes and blinked. “Oh.” He scowled. “As Lia and Todor’s kid would say, I don’t wike it.”

The images filtered down until he was just staring through one camera, with a little number 27 in the bottom right corner. It appeared to be a camera in the room they were in now, as he could see maybe half the squad lounging around, the rest of them blocked by equipment. “Okay, I got something,” he said. “Let me see.”

He started flicking through the feeds, humming to himself. Hallway. Hallway. Mess hall? Hallway. Stripped-down armory. Server room. A corner (he assumed that one had been turned backwards to hide whatever was in the area it was supposed to be monitoring). The entrance they’d come in at. Another hallway. Rubble. The STG. More- “Wait, what?”

He flicked back to the previous camera, then squinted to try and make the camera zoom in. Sure enough, there was a lone salarian in a courtyard, clad in the dark gray and yellow-orange armor of an STG grunt. They didn’t seem to be heavily armed, and a bit more zoom revealed why: emblazoned on both pauldrons and thigh guards was a neat, simplistic symbol that Zaemin had seen so often during his stay at the Mannovai hospital it had practically seared itself onto his retinas. “A medic,” he said aloud, furrowing his brow. “An STG _medic_.”

There was a vaguely disapproving noise. “What’s the STG doing here?” Savval asked.

“Think he’s the source of the signal?” Zahiya suggested.

“No, probably not,” Zaemin said, scanning the rest of the area. “They’re not really working on anything. More like looking for something.”

“Then maybe they’re here for the same reason we are,” Madelivio said.

There was a concerned sort of noise. “Shouldn’t he have shown up on the thermal scans?” Haasn asked. “Can they mask those?”

“Salarians are cold-blooded,” Zaemin said absently. “They’ll be the same temperature as the rest of this place, maybe a little cooler. Anybody who looked would think it’s a draft, or an equipment bug. It’s why they’re so effective for stealth-based stuff. Don’t show up on thermal scanners, don’t show up at all.”

The salarian glanced idly around the area, big eyes squinting at an area to one side of the camera- and then suddenly flashing directly to it, entire body going rigid. “Oh, that’s not good,” Zaemin said quietly.

Then they bolted. “Shit, that’s _really_ not good.”

“What? What happened?” Savval asked quickly.

“He saw me. Ashalla, can you figure out where he went?”

Ashalla answered in the affirmative just as the rest of the squad collectively squawked, _“What?”_

“He saw the camera moving and ran,” he clarified, shaking his head as Ashalla disconnected him from the security network. He’d need both eyes functional to run. As he pulled out his submachine gun, a new image popped up in the corner of his eye: a basic layout of the base, with a white “friend” blip where he and the squad were, a blue “unknown” one where they were supposed to go, and a path marked in yellow. “Right, thanks, Ashalla. Let’s move out, double-time.”

He took point, since he had the map. Small mercies, Ashalla had found a path that was almost entirely straightaway. Turn left, turn right, _go_ , hang another left, and-

Shortly after he rounded the corner, he was almost knocked flat on his back, only just barely catching himself before toppling over. He shook his head and looked up to see what he’d collided with… just in time for the STG medic to come to their senses, freeze, and disappear under a tac cloak.

He rolled his eyes and switched on the scanner in his cybernetic eye, outlining a form standing stock-still in front of him. _Prey instinct_ , a vaguely Waedrok-esque voice in the back of his head reminded him. _Predators see movement. Don’t move, stay safe_. “I can see you, you know.”

The salarian didn’t move. “I’m not bluffing. You know Dr. Iport Waedrok?” A twitch of the head, but otherwise nothing. “He implanted a cybernetic eye into my head. It has an optical scanner that detects tac cloaks and outlines them. _I can see you.”_

There was a moment of nothing, then the salarian shook their head, and the tac cloak broke. “Then you must be Saar’Zaemin,” they said, voice barely a ghost of a whisper as the squad behind him readied weapons.

He grinned and folded his arms. “So you’ve heard of me.”

The salarian tapped his right cheekbone- a gesture meaning “of course.” “I doubt you’d remember me,” he said cautiously, backing up a step. “My name is Volin Machris. I was on the ship that retrieved you from… well. You know.”

He blinked. “ _You_ were there?”

“I was just a trainee at the time,” he said quickly, raising his hands. “They didn’t let me get anywhere near you, but I helped with the equipment we were using to keep you alive.”

“Huh. Cool.” He glanced behind him and motioned for the others to put their weapons down. “Easy, guys, he’s harmless. What are you doing here, Machris? Seems a little far from salarian space for the STG.”

He flicked a membrane. “Same reason as you, I should think.”

Oh. Right. “Transmissions?”

“Yes. Here, this way.”

He motioned with his head for them to follow him, and Zaemin fell into step beside him as he walked off. “So, did the STG find anything?”

“Nothing of any definite use to us, no,” Machris said, pulling up his omni-tool. “According to our records, this base used to belong to an old enemy of the STG, a criminal organization we’ve been warring with since conception. They’re even older than the League of One, and that’s where they get the advantage. Always one step ahead. We managed to chase them out of this outpost a few centuries ago, and since then it’s been getting on-and-off use by pirates, mercenaries, fugitives… Anybody who needs somewhere to lie low for a few years, really.”

Zaemin frowned. “I was at Mannovai for five years, including my Pilgrimage, and I never heard of any organization like that.”

“Of course not. Do you really think we’d let information like that be public knowledge? Even the Council doesn’t know. Well, I mean, the salarian councilor knows, but certainly not the others. If they heard we’ve had one enemy repeatedly slip through our fingers for millennia, it would destroy our reputation.”

“ _Still_. _Five years_ , and nobody said, ‘Hey, by the way, there’s this vast criminal organization wily enough to outsmart the STG for several millennia! Watch out for them!’”

“You’re taking this too personally. They’re only a threat if they want to be. STG operations against them are preemptive measures in the interest of Union safety.”

“Still,” Zaemin repeated, scowling as he followed Machris into a small courtyard. “You said you didn’t find anything of definite use. So what _did_ you find?”

Machris drifted over to a crumbling statue in one corner, kicking at the base. A series of what appeared to be terminal screens popped up, and Machris crouched to start working with the interface. “My squadron was dropped off here, and Lieutenant Rilidou Kirrahe found this. It appears to be a remote uplink to security monitors, hidden in the statue for safekeeping. The lieutenant poked around, and near as we can tell, the transmissions are from a faulty piece of equipment on its last legs.”

“Huh.” Apparently he owed Rael’Zorah ten credits. “Where’s the rest of your squad now?”

“Split up,” Machris said, closing down the console. “Standard procedure is to find the source, then search the area within a certain radius to ensure we’re not being tricked by a temporary evacuation. They’ve done it before, clever little foot-rots.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And you stayed behind because..?”

Machris gave him a Look. “I’m a _medic_. The medic stays at the origin point so if anyone gets injured they don’t have to trek across half the planet.”

Zaemin nodded to himself. Made sense enough. He was opening his mouth to ask something else when Machris held up a hand, going to check his omni-tool. “Hold on. Incoming.”

He tapped a button, then flicked a membrane. “This is Machris.”

An unnervingly deep voice filtered through the speaker. “Keep an eye out. I just ran into a couple of mercs, headed your way. They’re dead now, but they can’t be the only ones. We’ll regroup at your location for backup.”

“Understood,” Machris said. “I’ll comm you if anything happens.”

“Good. Raemnor out.”

Zaemin stared. “ _Raemnor’s_ here, too?”

Machris blinked at him, long and slow. “How do you know everyone?”

“Two years in Waedrok’s care, my dude.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.”

Zaemin puffed out a sigh and turned back to the rest of the squad. “Well, STG’s got this place about covered. Think we should call it quits and send for a shuttle?”

Madelivio thrummed. “Maybe we should hang around a bit longer, in case those mercs show up before the STG gets back.”

“I can handle myself,” Machris groused, going back to the little terminal.

Zahiya shrugged. “I dunno, man, there’s not really a whole lot else for us to d-”

There was a sharp _crack_ , and Zahiya was cut off by the sudden hole in his mask and the spray of blood that followed.

Savval screamed, Zaemin jumped, Zahiya collapsed, and everything erupted into chaos.

His first instinct was to get Zahiya, even though a voice at the back of his mind warned him there was no point. Next to Zahiya’s limp body, Haasn stood frozen, sprayed with blood and shaking like mad. He didn't look like he was breathing, or if he was, it was too fast for his chest to expand properly. Biometric feedback from his eye confirmed it- quick, shallow breathing, with his blood oxygen content dropping dramatically. Zaemin's auditory input was squealing with feedback, trying to process the intense subvocals Madelivio was putting out. “Get to cover!” he bellowed, grabbing Zahiya’s arm and pulling him back towards one of the archways leading back into the base proper. “Get in cover, grab a gun, and shoot!”

Machris had followed him in and was barking into his omni-tool. “This is Machris. Hostiles at origin! Requesting support at my location! Friendly casualty, repeat, _friendly casualty_ …”

As Machris continued shrieking, his words thudded in Zaemin’s ears. _Casualty. Casualty_. No, no, it couldn’t be, not now, not Zahiya. He dragged Zahiya to a statue and propped him up, praying for a miracle. “Come on, Zahiya, talk to me!”

The blood seeping into his suit was the only answer.

 _Pulse: 0.0 beats per minute,_ his eye told him.  _Core temperature dropping._

He was abruptly shoved out of the way by Savval, who grabbed Zahiya by the shoulders and started shaking, voice somewhere between a scream and a sob as she begged, “Kalige, Kalige, _talk_ to me, Kalige, _please!_ Please, we- we can get you to a medbay, you’ll be okay, _please_ , just stay with me!”

Zaemin bit his lip and moved to give her space. Standing up, he glanced around to take a quick headcount. Machris was done with his call and had curled into a ball in the corner, rocking back and forth and chanting a fervent prayer. Madelivio was leaned up against one wall, staring off at some unseen horror. Yaana was trying to calm Tavvi, and Haasn…

Haasn was still frozen outside, somehow unharmed by the bullets now peppering the courtyard besides a few tears in his sashes and one graze on his leg that was sluggishly bleeding. Zaemin spared a split second to marvel at how incredibly incompetent these mercs were at aiming.

“Haasn!” he shouted. “Haasn, get your ass in here!”

Haasn didn’t move, eyes the size of drive cores and staring down at the blood spattering his suit. Zaemin cursed and darted out, seizing him by the upper arm and yanking as hard as he could. “Come _on!”_ he barked, pulling him back to safety. “You can panic when you’re safe!”

He let go of Haasn’s arm once they were back inside, and the poor kid all but collapsed in a boneless heap. Dammit. “Madelivio, can you talk to him?”

Madelivio didn’t respond, his head now bowed against something only he could see. His subvocals rang in Zaemin’s ears, and he dimly recalled that turian subvocals were supposed to be ultrasonic. If _he_ could hear them, they were far, far too high.

So that's what it sounded like when a turian screamed.

His eye informed him the turian's heart was going beyond too fast, and his breathing was just as fast and shallow as Haasn's. Very not good. Instinct told him to try to get the kid to snap out of it, but experience said he would only make the problem worse.

So much for the biotics.

He took a deep breath and tried to see any of the attackers. They were mostly peering out from columns on an upper floor, though he was pretty sure he saw one headed for the stairs.

Shit.

“Machris, any word on your squad?” he asked, pulling up his omni-tool to hail the _Neema_.

Machris paused his mumbling to look at him. “They’re scattered, but some of them were following a river. There should be at least a couple-”

A cough came from behind them, and Zaemin spun to see a lanky green salarian in the white armor of an STG officer padding silently out from around a corner, flanked by two more in the standard grunt armor like Machris’s. “Lieutenant Sur'Kesh Vano Eost Dael Rilidou Kirrahe,” he said, and Zaemin swore he could see an aura of calm radiating from him. “We heard you could use a hand.”

Zaemin could have kissed him. “Lieutenant Saar’Zaemin vas _Neema_. You’ve got a real knack for timing,” he said wryly, offering a hand for Kirrahe to shake. “Half my squad’s down for the count, and we weren’t planning for combat in the first place.”

Kirrahe nodded, shaking his hand. “Then you’re in luck.” He motioned for one of the salarians following him to scout the situation, then glanced slowly around the gathered group, his gaze alighting on Zahiya and Savval. “I’m sorry,” he added quietly.

Zaemin took a deep, shuddery breath. “Yeah,” he said, looking away. “You guys do your thing, I need to… I should report in, tell the Fleet what’s going on.”

Kirrahe nodded respectfully and drifted off, talking into his comm, and Zaemin withdrew to pull up his omni-tool. “ _Neema_ , this is ground team,” he said, struggling to speak around the lump in his throat. “We… We have a confirmed KIA. Requesting immediate evac.”

The other end was awash in shocked gasps and murmurs, and finally Xala said sharply, “Zaemin, what’s happening down there?”

“I’ll explain everything when we get back. Just… please, hurry.”

He shut off the comm before anybody else could protest, then walked back over to Kirrahe. “So, got a plan?”

Kirrahe glanced at him, then nodded and pulled the pistol off his hip. “We don’t have the numbers for a full assault, so we do this the salarian way. One of my men will stay here and keep the mercs distracted, while the rest of us head back through the building and slip upstairs so we’re on level ground. The rest of my squadron is on their way, and will go on the roof to provide support from up high. And, of course, the usual tricks up our sleeve that we’ll keep a secret until it’s time.”

“What about my squad, the ones who can’t fight?”

“Machris will stay with them. Don’t worry, no more harm will come to them.”

Zaemin exhaled, long and slow. “Okay,” he said finally. “Let’s go.”

* * *

If you’d ever told Saar’Zaemin he’d one day be fighting mercs alongside the STG, he’d tell you you were reading too far into the time he’d spent with salarians and to go lie down for a while. Yet there he was, shooting idiot mercs on a remote base with an STG lieutenant and wondering how people so bad at aiming, paying attention to their surroundings, and reacting in time to avoid getting kneecapped had managed to successfully shoot and kill one of his men.

If it weren’t for the gravity of the situation, Zaemin would have found it comical.

As it were, he was just sort of hoping evac came soon so they could take care of Zahiya the way he deserved.

The mercs had arranged themselves in a loose ring around the courtyard, staggered so if one went down another could move up to take their place. It would have been a better strategy if they’d had more soldiers, but no, there was only about one replacement per merc, so Zaemin, Kirrahe, and the rest were making short work of them. As they went through the troops, more of Kirrahe’s men slowly trickled in, so while they whittled down the mercs’ numbers, their own just kept increasing.

As they rounded a corner, one merc spun to face them, only to stumble sideways as they were blasted with a storm of bullets. While the new corpse fell, Zaemin twisted to see who’d shot them, then slowly grinned as he recognized the tree trunk of a salarian standing on the roof across the way. “Raemnor!” he called with a jaunty wave. “Nice of you to drop by!”

Kirrahe snorted. “You took your time,” he said into the comm, pacing ahead.

“You know me,” came the response. There was a sudden whoosh, then a minor explosion-y noise as Raemnor charged into their path. He shook out his neck, then rolled his shoulders and hefted up his shotgun. “Fashionably late.”

The massive salarian fell into step next to Zaemin, flanking Kirrahe as they walked. “How many left?”

“We should be almost done,” Kirrahe said smoothly. “Lieutenant Zaemin, if you’d like to get your people to safety, we can clear out whatever remains.”

Zaemin hesitated, glancing back at Tavvi and Yaana. Their vitals were still worryingly freaked out, but holding steady. “You sure?”

There was a crack as Kirrahe fired off another round from his pistol. “Positive.”

The comm crackled. “Lieutenant!” one of the salarians on the roof shrieked. “Runner, around the corner!”

Before Zaemin could respond, Raemnor’s biotics flared to life, and he shot out a hand so fast Zaemin had to check to make sure his head was still attached. He followed the path of Raemnor’s arm to see an asari in the mercs’ colors frozen in stasis, posed like she’d been caught halfway through a step. Raemnor seemed to consider for a moment, then yanked the merc back towards them with a grunt of effort.

Zaemin had thought maybe he was just going to interrogate the merc. Instead, shortly before her stasis-locked form reached them, Raemnor hauled back, then slammed his head into hers with a sickening sound Zaemin didn’t have the words to describe. His biotics faded, and the asari fell to the floor, her head now thoroughly caved in on one side and Raemnor’s pale violet skin splattered with a thick, dark stain of deep purple, hunks of gray-purple ooze, and shards of bone.

While Zaemin could only stare in horror, making a choked sort of noise, Kirrahe jumped maybe ten feet back. _“Why did you do that!?”_ he demanded, shaking himself and storming right back up to get in Raemnor’s face (or, try, anyway; Raemnor was still a fair bit too tall). “She wasn’t attacking, she was _fleeing!_ There was _no reason_ to do that!”

Raemnor made no move to defend himself, merely staring down at Kirrahe. The two of them maintained glowering, tense eye contact, in spite of the blood, bone, and brain slowly seeping its way down Raemnor's face and dripping off his brow past his eyes. The high buzzing his auditory feedback was _definitely_ not liking told him they were having an argument in hypersonics, probably more for privacy than anything else. After a minute, Raemnor snorted and looked away, rolling his shoulders. “Fine,” he said curtly.

Kirrahe scowled, then turned to Zaemin. “Lieutenant, you should get back to your people and ready for evac. We’ll handle the rest of the mercs.”

Zaemin met his gaze evenly for a long moment, then nodded slowly and reached out to shake his hand. “We’ll do that. Good working with you, Lieutenant.”

“Likewise. Good luck.”

* * *

Zaemin rubbed his temples, waiting for the call to connect. This wasn’t right. Things weren’t adding up. The mercs’ appearance, what had happened to Zahiya, the way Raemnor had acted… He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something wasn’t right. So he’d called the only person he could think of who might know something.

There was a quiet click, followed by the coughing of an elderly person with slowly-failing lungs. “Saar’Zaemin,” Maekso said once his fit had subsided. “I was wondering if I’d hear from you.”

“Cut the shit, Maekso,” he said, scowling at his monitor. Maekso never used vidcomm- his eyesight was starting to go, and looking at a terminal too much only hurt the issue. “What’s going on?”

Maekso paused, apparently taken aback by his tone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said warily. “The STG-”

“Oh, fuck off with that, we both know I don’t mean the STG,” Zaemin all but hissed. “You and your cronies were always running around like you knew something the rest of us didn’t, and whatever it is, it’s _not_ on the level. _Talk_.”

Maekso was quiet for a moment, then said patiently, “That’s simply what salarians _do_ , Saar’Zaemin. We’re the secret-keepers of the galaxy.”

“Don’t treat me like a child!” He slammed his fist down into his desk, surprising himself with his own vitriol, and took a moment to compose himself again before continuing, “You know something about what happened down on that planet, don’t you? And I _don’t_ mean because you’re an STG general. Those mercs were _too_ out-of-the-blue, Zahiya’s wound was _too_ perfect, and _Raemnor smashed an asari’s head in with his face._ ”

“Did he?” Maekso mused. “Hasn’t done that in a few years. Thought he preferred cleaner methods of execution.”

“Don’t be clever,” Zaemin said with a scowl, noting with slight dismay that he'd left a dent in the surface of his desk. “I’ve got five traumatized marines, one dead, and one of the former won’t leave the latter. This is too big a deal for your people’s mind games. You know I know, stop dancing around the issue.”

There was a long, pregnant pause, then Maekso let out a slow, hissing sigh. “How secure is this channel?”

* * *

An agent sprinted through base, feet barely touching the floor as she all but flew along long, winding, claustrophobic hallways. The sun’s light never reached this deep inside the base; the cold of the floors seeped through her boots, like a warning of what was waiting for her.

She took a pause to collect her breath before the doorway to her destination, a huge, hulking, metal thing sulkily guarding what lay inside. She checked her omni-tool: negative two minutes and counting. She was late. She cursed. She wasn’t built for running, or much physical activity at all, really; she was just supposed to keep the power on, but the last messenger had mysteriously disappeared, so she’d been drafted.

She took one last shuddery breath, then steeled her nerve and knocked.

The doors admitted her much more quietly than she would have expected, and she cautiously padded inside. The room was bathed in a pale blue light, with a large, heavy desk between her and her employer. Said employer was stock-still behind the desk, draped in shadows such that all she could make out were the beady black eyes narrowed into slits. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, she was cut off with a simple, curt, “You’re late.”

She stammered slightly, then managed to get out, “Apologies, I came as fast as I could-”

“I already know what happened.” The eyes blinked slowly at her. “Do we have the locations of the mercenaries?”

“Yes, Agent 03 has-”

“Kill them.”

She stopped abruptly. “I- what?”

“Make it brutal.”


	19. Studies Show Nine Out of Ten Readers Miss Foreshadowing in Chapter Titles

**Galactic Standard Day 4, Week 6, Month 4, Year 2910**

**(Mid Terran Year 2170 CE)**

It was probably only an hour after the shuttle returned that Gerrel went to seek out Zaemin, who had immediately isolated himself following a mysterious comm call back to Mannovai.

“Probably,” because honestly, Gerrel had no idea how long it had been.

Ever since receiving the news that there had been a confirmed KIA on the ground, everything had been a bit hazy, almost as if he were dreaming, and he truly hoped he was. Otherwise, that meant Zahiya really _was_ dead, Savval really _was_ almost mad with grief, and their biotics really _were_ lying catatonic in their shared cubicle, silent (besides the intermittent screaming and crying, which was worrisome in and of itself) and unresponsive and worrying the entire crew nearly as much as Savval.

Keelah, he hoped he was dreaming.

Xala was busy taking care of Savval, or trying to, and coordinating Zahiya’s- Keelah, he couldn’t even _think_ it- which left Gerrel alone to find and manage Zaemin, or at least to make sure he was okay. He didn’t think it such a spectacular idea, personally, but then again, nothing felt like a good idea right now. Nothing except sleeping and quite possibly just… ending everything. But then, that was a common impulse in situations like these, and he’d mostly learned to ignore it.

Ignoring the niggling feeling in the back of his numb mind, he staggered his way down the hall, mindlessly palming the lock to Zaemin’s office and lumbering inside without a word.

Then he stopped, eyes widening, as the scene before him slowly filtered through the fog.

The office was a mess. Upon the desk, Zaemin’s terminal still sat on the “call ended” screen, his keyboard sitting askew beside a dent in the metal- _how did he manage to dent his desk?_ Gerrel wondered. The chair had been shoved back against the wall, apparently hard enough to knock several of the papers taped to it clean off, and Zaemin himself stood digging through one of the drawers in the far side of the desk, his helmet haphazardly thrown in a corner of the room.

As Gerrel watched, Zaemin fished a datapad out of the drawer and started angrily stabbing at the screen, scrolling through its contents for a minute before hissing something in a language Gerrel didn’t know and tossing it aside to begin digging anew.

It took him a moment to find his voice, and when he did, all he could manage to say was a weak, “Saar?”

Zaemin flinched. When he spoke, his voice sounded hoarse and choked, like he’d been crying for a week instead of an hour, and he kept his head lowered so his hair obscured his eyes. “What do you want, Han?”

“I…” Gerrel’s gaze slowly fell back to the desk. “Just… wanted to see if you were okay.”

Wrong thing to say, apparently. Zaemin made a choked, angry sound and hurled something- another datapad, looked like- at the door. “What do _you_ think!?”

Gerrel didn’t answer for a moment, then quietly intoned, “You should probably stop throwing things. Ashalla’s gonna be mad.”

“I don’t _care_ if Ashalla’s mad at me!” Zaemin threw another datapad, then yanked a wad of papers out of his desk and flung them aside as well. “She wouldn’t be the only one…”

“Saar…” Gerrel sighed and moved to lean against the wall. Standing up was difficult when he had no energy for both it and talking at the same time. “What are you looking for?”

“My Board application,” Zaemin tersely replied, and Gerrel felt his stomach sink into somewhere near the vicinity of his left shin.

He hadn’t hardly opened his mouth to protest before Zaemin had raised his head and pinned him with a wet-eyed stare so full of guilt and self-loathing Gerrel couldn’t help but shut up again as he quietly said, “I’m not going back, Han. I _can’t.”_

The question slipped out before he could stop it. “Why?”

Zaemin didn’t flinch like he’d expected. Instead, he just slowly lowered his head and resumed rifling through the drawers. “I was out for two years. I nearly died, I come back, and on my first mission back, someone dies.” He paused to take a slow, shaky breath. “No one’s died before, Han. Not before now.”

“But that- that wasn’t your fault,” Gerrel stammered, struggling to speak around the knot in his throat. “Intel said-”

“I was hooked into the security feeds, Han, I should have seen them coming!” Zaemin slammed a datapad down hard enough to crack it. “It was a stupid mistake- I should have been watching, I should have seen them coming, and I didn’t, and now Zahiya’s _dead!”_ He punctuated the last word by pivoting and slamming his fist into the wall with a horrific _crunch,_ leaving a noticeable dent in the metal bulkhead. Gerrel noted with muted horror that his hand was rather badly damaged now, but Zaemin didn’t seem to notice. “If it’d been _you_ down there, Zahiya would still be _alive,_ Han! But it was _me,_ and he’s _dead,_ and it’s _all my fault!”_

Gerrel opened his mouth to respond, but Zaemin whirled around and cut him off before he had a chance. “And you don’t even care, do you?” It was a bit odd, seeing tears on only half of Zaemin’s face thanks to the synthetic right eye and lack of tear ducts on that side, Gerrel managed to realize through the feeling of dread slowly building in his gut. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“Saar, that’s not-”

“It never is!” Zaemin grabbed a datapad out of his desk- apparently the one with his application for reinstatement to the Board saved on it- and flung it at the wall as hard as he could. Gerrel mutely watched its screen shatter and its frame warp, then, without a word, turned and exited the office.

The lost haze came back thicker than ever as he slowly made his way back to his cubicle, bypassing his own office without a second thought. Didn’t want to do work anymore. Didn’t want to- didn’t want _anything._ Wanted to stop existing, if at all possible. That’d be nice.

* * *

Xala found Han curled up in their cubicle, half-buried under blankets and twitching in that way he did when he was holding back sobs. _You need to find Han_ , Zaemin had told him, nothing short of frantic. _I- I said something I shouldn’t’ve, and he- I don’t know how he took it, but it’s not gonna be good_.

Keelah, nothing was going right. He was tempted to join his husband in crying, but experience told him that wasn’t what Han needed right now.

So instead, he quietly drifted over and took a seat next to, but not touching, the lump in the blankets that was his husband. “What’s it saying?” he asked softly, biting his lip. He didn’t want to hear the answer, he never did. But if it didn’t get out, it would fester and fester until it reached its logical conclusion.

Han made a choking sort of sound. “Shotgun to the gut,” he mumbled, not looking at him. “Hurt a lot, but it’ll be quick. CO2 suffocation. Slow, but painless. Drowning. Like falling asleep. Dig out the spine with a knife. Painful, slow, brutal as you deserve.”

One of Han’s hands drifted up to rub at the back of his neck, and Xala looked down at the floor, an awful feeling gnawing at his stomach. Barely a hair’s width below the top of his undersuit were a mess of short, thin scars where Han had already attempted the last option once before. Xala was still haunted by the teary, desperate look he’d had in his eyes when he’d found him, bleeding from the neck and clutching the sash he’d taken as a symbol of their marriage like it was all that was anchoring him to this life.

He shuddered, then carefully reached over and squeezed Han’s hand. “It’s okay, I’m here,” he soothed, rubbing the back of his knuckles with his thumb. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Han made a snuffling sort of noise. “I went to go check on Zaemin,” he said dully. “He said… He said I didn’t care that Zahiya was dead.” His voice cracked midway through, and he turned his head into the pillows to let out a choked, muffled cry.

Xala gnawed at his lip. “Han, Han, shh, it’s okay,” he murmured, rubbing his husband’s arm. “Saar’s grieving, and taking it out on everyone else.”

“How could he _say_ that?” Han asked, turning to look at him with eyes that were bloodshot from crying. “I- I do _too_ care, I just-”

“Shh, I know,” he said, running a hand through Han’s hair. He hadn’t gotten it shaved in a while, but it wasn’t quite shaggy just yet, so it only just barely reached over the tops of Xala’s fingers. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Saar’s having a difficult time right now, is all. He knows he shouldn’t have said it, and he came and found me. Okay?”

Han was quiet for a while, and Xala decided to chance easing himself down to lie next to him, pulling him against his chest and tucking Han’s head against his shoulder. They lay like that for a while, and Xala listened as Han’s breathing slowly evened out and his choked sobs subsided. He was starting to think maybe he’d fallen asleep when he heard a quiet, “Xala?”

He hummed in acknowledgement, and Han asked, “Am I a bad person?”

He felt his spine stiffen, just for a moment. Then he forced himself to relax and pressed a kiss to Han’s temple before saying, “You don’t always do good things, but you’re far from a bad person, Han.”

“Then why would he say that?”

Xala chose to hum rather than sigh like he wanted to. Sighing would make Han worry even more. “Sometimes when people are upset, they say things they don’t mean. You know that more than anybody else I know.”

“Yes, but-”

“Shh,” he hummed, smoothing Han’s hair. “Zaemin asked me to ask if he could come and apologize. He knows he did wrong, and he understands if you don’t want him around anymore.”

Han was quiet for a long moment, then exhaled, long and slow. “Maybe I should sleep first.”

“As you wish, my dear.”

* * *

“Yes, Mum, I promise,” Gerrel said, making a vaguely rude gesture at the comm he knew she wouldn’t see. “Love you. Bye.”

No sooner had the “call ended” screen popped up than he let out a long groan and rubbed at his temples. “Keelah…” He hated lying to his mother, but what else could he do? It wasn’t like he could just _tell_ her he was on _suicide watch_. How did one even go about _doing_ that? He couldn’t just waltz up and go, “Hey, things are going really awful and I think I might off myself at any moment because I simply can’t deal with literally any of it, how’ve you been?” It would give her a heart attack. She was a _psychologist_ , and he _still_ hated having to admit to her when he wasn't doing okay. It just felt _wrong_ to tell his own mother, one of the few people he genuinely loved and cared for, that he wanted to die.

He was sitting with his bad eye towards the doorway, so his lack of functioning peripherals on that side would give him an excuse to ignore anybody who dropped by. So, of course, he didn’t notice that anyone had until he heard a small cough and nearly jumped out of his skin.

He turned his head to see Zaemin was peering in, looking more than a little bit sheepish. “Hey,” he said weakly. “Xala said I could drop by.”

He considered, then grunted and went back to his terminal. “Make yourself comfortable. On the _other_ side of the cubicle, Xala should be coming back for bed soon.”

“Right, right.” Zaemin slunk in like a nervous varren, eventually taking a seat against the far wall. “Madelivio’s talking again,” he added, almost like a peace offering. “He’s in a call with his family. Parents, brother, one grandfather, and an aunt, I think he said. And Aela’Den’s getting Haasn to talk to her, last I heard. Or, like, not really _talking_ , but at least _responding_.”

“Small miracles,” he said, finally looking up at Zaemin. Then he blinked, taken aback slightly by what he saw. “Mate, I think you forgot something.”

Zaemin glanced down at his arm, or rather, lack thereof. His prosthetic was nowhere to be seen, along with the metal sleeve he wore to distribute weight evenly and keep the joint from taking too much strain, and the stump was noticeably paler than the rest of him. “Yeah, I, uh…” He grinned sheepishly. “I broke it punching the wall. Ashalla and Special Projects are mad at me now. And I bet you anything Waedrok has a sudden, inexplicable need to send me an angry message right about now. Guy’s got a sixth sense for this sort of thing, I swear. Like, this one time he was running diagnostics, and he just went rigid, and he, like, _screamed_ , and then his niece yelled from, like, across the building, _'Who told him!?'_ and it turned out she'd been doing something she wasn't supposed to with her leg, and he'd just _known_.”

Gerrel snorted and cracked a grin, and Zaemin visibly relaxed. “So what’re you working on?”

“Requisitions requests.” Gerrel grimaced. “Doctor’s orders. They like sticking me with the dullest work they can until they’re positive I’m not planning to lop my own head off. And even when they _are_ , they ‘ease me back into’ the more emotional stuff so damn slow you could watch trees grow.” He paused, then added, “Or, I _think_ so, anyway. Been a while since I actually _saw_ one of those.”

Zaemin snorted. “You’re _kidding_.”

“No, honest. Ask Xala, even he thinks it’s ridiculous. And you know how fussy he gets.” He shook his head, then glanced at his terminal as a notification popped up. “Speaking of which, he’ll be back in a few minutes. His shift just got over.”

“Then I’ll get this over with, if you don’t mind.” Zaemin leaned forward slightly, going to fold his hands before realizing he was missing a necessary component. He stared at his outstretched stump for a moment, then muttered, “Oh, yeah,” and leaned on one knee instead. “Look, I’m _really_ sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean it, and you didn’t deserve that. I was mad about Zahiya, and… And I’m sorry. And I totally get it if you don’t forgive me, and if I’m wasting my breath, and if you never want to see me again, and-”

Gerrel cut him off by throwing a pillow at his face. “Relax, would you? Get over here.”

Zaemin shook his head in surprise, then scrambled over to him. No sooner had he taken up a new position against the wall than Gerrel had reached over and pulled him into a one-armed but still bone-crushing hug, managing to squeeze out of him a startled, slightly choked “ _Gack!”_

Gerrel grinned and let him go. “It’s all good, mate. Me and Xala had a chat about it. No hard feelings.”

Zaemin rubbed at his throat, then asked, “You’re sure?”

Gerrel gave him a long, hard look. “Saar’Zaemin vas _Neema_ ,” he said finally, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this or not, but you’re on _my_ ship. You know, the one I’m _captain_ of. If I were really, truly, genuinely, _irrevocably_ upset with you, that statement would not be true.”

Zaemin paled for a moment. “You don’t mean you’d space me, right?”

“What? No, of course not!” he said with a snort. “I mean I’d kick you off to the _Nadiin_ or something. Go pal around with my grandfather, he likes you.”

Zaemin breathed a little sigh of relief just as Xala lumbered in, looking asleep on his feet. Gerrel lifted a hand in greeting, but Xala took no notice, merely flopping face-first into the pile of pillows and blankets that served as their bed.

Gerrel watched him for a moment, then slowly grinned and looked at Zaemin. He made a shushing gesture, then cautiously set down his terminal, slid into a crouch, then jumped across the cubicle to pounce on his husband. Xala let out a muffled yelp of surprise as Gerrel lay down on top of him, then quickly settled as he nuzzled the back of his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Missed you, you big, beautiful gay lug,” he said affectionately, ruffling Xala’s hair.

Xala groaned and turned his head to look up at him out of the corner of one eye. “You’re terrible,” he said, smiling in spite of himself.

Gerrel grinned and kissed him again. “Love you, too. Get some sleep, you look half-dead. I’ll get you a blanket.”

Xala hummed in approval, and Gerrel rolled off him, going to drag a blanket over. “I’ll see you when you wake up,” he said softly. “Promise.”

There was a rustling behind him, and he turned with an irritated snort. A barbed comment about how the _captain_ should get some _damn privacy_ died on his lips as he saw Ashalla with a rather panicked look on her face. “What is it?”

She bit her lip. “I, uh, sorry to interrupt, sir, but…”

He frowned. “Spit it out, Ashalla.”

She exhaled sharply. “It’s Nahza, sir. Unauthorized external comm. He was calling Omega.”

* * *

When they walked into the single room that remained of the _Neema_ ’s once-expansive brig, Nahza was nothing short of a mess. His helmet was off, his hair was going every which way, his eyes were red and puffy from crying, and Gerrel was pretty sure he could see snot under his nose and pooling just above his upper lip. _Ew_.

Ashalla had only barely opened her mouth to start talking when Nahza burst out, “Ah’m sorry! I warn’t tryin’ ta do nuthin’ bad, sware! I just warnted’a call m’ mama!”

Gerrel blinked slowly. “Was that Khelish?”

Zaemin elbowed him. “He said he wasn’t trying to cause trouble, he was just calling his mom. Omega dialect. Think liveship, but fed through a meat grinder, mashed into a ball, and used for turian contact sports.”

Gerrel winced, then blinked. “Whaddya mean, _Omega?”_

Nahza made some horrible, pathetic snuffling sound and hung his head. “I's born there.”

Gerrel raised a brow, then folded his arms. “Well, that solves one mystery. I _knew_ he wasn’t from a liveship, Rael owes me a beer.”

Ashalla snorted, and Nahza glanced between them. “Wait, you knowed I was lyin’?”

“That’s the damn heaviest accent I’ve ever heard in my life, kid. And I’m _Admiral Raan’s_ kid.”

Ashalla shrugged. “No system glitch big enough to delete an entire family line. We’ve got Nahzas from a few generations ago, but none settled on any liveships in living memory, and of the only two old enough to be your parents, one’s Elani and the other is marked as a non-returner. Pretty safe bet, all things considered.”

Nahza snuffled again. “And you knowed it warn’t Elani.”

“You didn’t even know Elani was related to you until a couple weeks ago. Wasn’t exactly hard to figure out who was left.” She clicked her tongue. “Sorry, hon, but your whole shtick didn’t work out too great. It just wasn’t that big a deal, so we let it slide… until you made an unauthorized call.”

Nahza looked like he was about to cry. “I j-jus’ warnted ta call Mama!”

Ashalla puffed out a sigh. “Look, I know you’ve made unauthorized calls before, and I didn’t care. I figured you were talking to some buddies. But we just had a mission where somebody _died_ , and-”

That did it. Nahza burst out sobbing again, and Zaemin glanced between him, Gerrel, and Ashalla. “Y’know,” he said dryly, “the salarians programmed in a whole _bunch_ of dictionaries, but they didn’t get me one for… whatever this is.”

Gerrel pushed one cheek out with his tongue. “Ashalla, I hope you let him finish that call.”

She made a vaguely offended noise. “Of course. I ambushed him as he was leaving the room.”

Gerrel snorted, then crouched down by Nahza. “Nahza, mate, listen.”

Nahza clamped a hand over his mouth, though a bit of whimpering still got out, and Gerrel repressed the urge to just topple him over backwards, _hard,_ and call it good. “Next time, just let us know when you’re calling your mum, yeah? We know she’s on Omega, and as long as you give us the address so we can make sure she’s really who you’re calling, we’ll let you call her all you want. Madelivio’s making calls to Hierarchy space all the time, and you don’t see _him_ in here.”

Nahza wheezed a bit, then nodded. “Yessir.”

“Good.” He straightened up and dusted himself off, then went to answer his omni-tool as it started blinking at him. “Scan the comm systems, get the information, then let the kid go. Maybe let him call his mum again. Think he’s gonna need it after this,” he told Ashalla as he opened the new message.

She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you.” He scanned the message, then closed his omni-tool and turned to head for the door. “Now, if we’re done here, that was Mum. She’s with Den and Haasn, and she says he’s talking.”

* * *

The agent definitely did not like her new job as the messenger, she decided as she once again made the trek through the base to speak with her employer. If it weren't for the hefty paycheck and the risk of being considered a "liability" to be "taken care of," she'd be more than happy to quit and go somewhere more pleasant.

Her employer was facing away from her this time, staring pensively out a window. "Well?"

She swallowed and placed the datapad she'd been carrying on the desk. "All targets eliminated."

"And our contact?"

"AFK. Status update on target pending."

Her employer made a sound that she dearly hoped wasn't displeased, and for a moment she saw a hand reach up and trail along the glass as the shadowy figure turned and walk back toward the desk. "Report in as soon as that update comes through. Go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaaaand on that little cliffhanger, we're going on a very short hiatus because of spring break! The next chapter will be posted on the 25th of March.


	20. Today's the Day to Celebrate 100k of Pain with Even More Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _"Hope is the thing with feathers."_ \- Emily Dickinson

**Galactic Standard Day 4, Week 6, Month 4, Year 2910**

**(Mid Terran Year 2170 CE)**

Raan sighed and sorted through her notes, waiting patiently for Aela’Den to finish entering in the preliminary session data. She hadn’t really worked with traumatized soldiers since before Han had been diagnosed, mostly only children and young adults who’d had bad Pilgrimages or childhoods. There’d been a few times here and there where she’d soothed someone too agitated from training or deployment, but that wasn’t nearly as intensive as… _this_.

Her notes, an amalgamation of Aela’s findings and her own from interviews with family and digging into _Olyna_ roster data, told a very sorry tale: Mother died in childbirth, leaving the two Haasn sons with their father, who had blamed the younger boy for his wife’s death and turned abusive. Protective older brother and stepmother had tried to ease things, with limited success. Grew up ostracized for biotic ability; few friends (if any), overlooked by adults when not directly scorned, constant trips to the medbay for weak bones and almost constant illness… and then _something_ had happened on Pilgrimage. The best they’d managed to extract from his turian friend was that there was something with slavers, and then another something with a human colony, but he’d started shaking and keening in that way turians did instead of shedding tears, so they’d had to stop the interview for Madelivio’s own emotional safety. She’d felt terrible and allowed him to use her personal quarters to call his mother privately for support.

Thie’Haasn had been showing progress since returning to the Fleet. He’d been making friends, getting along well with other marines, finally opening up according to everyone she’d asked. She’d even asked both Han and Aerazl; if there was one thing that stood out about her son and his husband, it was that when asked to report on the same thing, their reports would almost certainly hold conflict, and the conflict was where you found the truth. But both of them had agreed that Haasn seemed to be improving, which could only mean that he was.

And then Kalige’Zahiya died, and all that had gone out the airlock.

She sighed again and rubbed at the back of her neck. Supposedly, she’d been one of the best at working with soldiers before she’d switched to child psychology, and with any luck, that skill hadn’t deserted her yet.

Aela finished typing and looked over at her without actually _looking_ at her, eyes half-lidded and sad. “Whenever you’re ready, ma’am.”

Raan nodded to her, then set her notes beside her and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her thighs and loosely weaving her fingers together. “Thie’Haasn vas _Tonbay_ ,” she said, keeping her voice low and soft, “do you know where you are?”

She waited. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Fifteen.

Haasn nodded, slowly, and so minutely she almost missed it.

She suppressed a sigh of relief. She would have preferred he actually _say_ where he was, but she’d take what she could get. “Do you know who I am?”

Another slow nod, and a small whisper. “Admiral Shala’Raan.” His voice cracked on her clan name.

She nodded, suppressing a smile. It was a start. “Yes, that is correct. Do you know why you are here?”

Haasn’s eyes went wide, what little color existed in his pale skin flooding away. Then he slowly sank down in his seat, burying his face in his hands and making an awful, choked sort of noise. She hesitated, then gently reached over and rubbed his back. “Shh, I understand,” she murmured. “The marines haven’t had a casualty like this in years, and you were right in the thick of things. You have every right to be upset.”

She waited for his silent sobs to subside, then removed her hand and moved back to her original position, now simply grasping his hand and running her thumb over his knuckles. “Our records show you would be particularly… affected by things like this,” she carefully said. “What we do not know is why. Can you tell me?”

Haasn went silent as the cold vacuum of space, eyes wide and unfocused as they had been ever since he’d returned, and she suppressed a frustrated sigh, then tried again. Patience was key in this situation. “Thie’Haasn,” she said, her voice as gentle and soothing as she could make it, “We can help you with what’s going on. It is our job to help, and we are very good at it. But for us to do that, we need to know what happened.”

Haasn stayed quiet, and she looked to Aela, who bit her lip. “Thie,” she soothed, as if speaking to a frightened child, “I know it hurts. I know you’re scared and upset. But we’ll help you through it, I promise. That’s what we’re here for. Any time you start getting too upset, we can help you calm down. It’s okay, I promise.”

Silence for a while longer, and Raan and Aela traded a worried glance. Then Haasn took a long, shuddery breath and said, “Okay.”

* * *

_The humans weren’t as unreasonable as the extranet painted them, Thie thought to himself as the human man standing behind the counter yelled directions across the small shop to the group of what he presumed to be laborers loading supplies into a small, battered skycar, fumbling with Thie’s credit chit and assuring him again that it wasn’t any trouble and they were happy to do business with him._

_Everything always painted the humans as an awful, rude, crude people with a collective superiority complex rivalling that of even the asari, believing themselves to be, if the extranet claims were correct, “a race of Messiahs” or something to that accord. When he and Kel had decided to make an emergency landing aboard a nearby human colony upon learning that their ship’s drive core simply didn’t have the juice in it to make it to a hub world, they’d been prepared for the worst._

_Yet here he stood, in a tiny little marketplace on a tiny little colony in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by naught but humans and the occasional tiny yapping fluffy thing peeking out from behind a human woman’s legs, and he felt more welcome than he ever had aboard the fleet._

_“Thanks,” he said once the shopkeeper appeared to have finished giving his directions and handed back his chit. “I owe you one.”_

_The human, a wrinkled man with bright red hair that seemed to defy the laws of physics and crawled down to sit on the top of his lip like a terribly lost and ratty_ shodaha _, gave a hearty, booming laugh and shook his head. “T’ain’t no trouble,” he drawled in that heavy accent so many human colonists seemed to have, dipping his head with a wink. “Y’all kind’s got ‘nough trouble wit’out us folk drivin’ ya nuts an’ bein’ rude. Ain’t no trouble’a be helpin’ ya get on yer way. A’sides,” he motioned to the credit chit still clutched in Thie’s hand, “y’all’s helpin’ us jump-start th’economy._ We _oughta be thankin’_ you. _”_

_Thie nodded, though he was still hopelessly attempting to translate the heavy almost-liveship accent into understandable Khelish, but before he could step away, the man reached out and clamped a heavy hand down on his shoulder, expression suddenly stern. “Y’all be careful, now, a’ight? Is’sa dangerous galaxy. We got some news’a slavers runnin’ in these parts. Y’all get them parts installed an’ get on outta here, ya hear? Them slavers’ll be all over you suits like stink on shit if y’ain’t quick.”_

_“I- uh, right.” Thie bobbed his head quickly, and the human let go. “Yeah, we’ll be careful. Uh, thank you.” And with that, he headed out the door._

_He’d only made it a few steps, however, before another human—this one a tall female with long hair all pulled back in a lovely braid and clad in rather flattering dress blues—raced by, calling across the courtyard, “We lost contact with Adam out on the southeast side,” to a similarly-dressed man hovering over what looked to be a partially-disassembled portable holofabricator._

_“What?” the man in blues called back. The woman repeated herself, and the man swore in a language Thie’s translator didn’t recognize and said, “Send Quinn and Loren out to check on him. Bet you forty creds he crashed the comm again with porn.”_

_“That’s a sucker’s bet, Raleigh.”_

_“That’s the point, Tash.”_

_“Make it fifty and I’ll go with them.”_

_“Sixty if you take pictures.”_

_“I’ll send pictures.” The woman ran off again._

_Thie just shook his head. Humans were really weird, and he didn’t think he’d ever quite understand them, but that was all right by him, especially considering he’d probably never have to deal with them again after he’d finished his Pilgrimage anyway._

_The parts had already arrived by the time he made it back to the_ August Meridian _, a small cluster of humans bustling around unloading while Kel told them where to put everything. Not that there was much room in the cargo bay anyway, but, well, he was still trying for at least_ some _semblance of organization._

_Kel looked up as Thie approached, the broad grin on his face obvious despite the mask obscuring it. “Hey, Thie!” he cheerily greeted, waving enthusiastically even as Thie came up beside him. “Wow, these guys are being really nice. Did you tip them or something?”_

_Thie shrugged. “I barely even had to pay. Almost had to throw my chit at the guy before he’d put it through.” Kel laughed, a bubbly, cheerful sort of noise that never failed to put a smile on Thie’s face. He tucked his hands into the sashes around his hips, quietly watching the laborers finish unloading the parts and wave goodbye before departing, then looked back to Kel. “Are you going to be okay getting everything installed by yourself? I mean, I can help if you-“_

_“Nah, nah, I’ll be fine.” Kel waved a dismissive hand with another vocal grin. “I know you hate getting in the core anyway, with the static and stuff. I can handle it.”_

_“You sure?”_

_“Absolutely.” Kel beamed, then jumped and started sifting through his pockets with a small exclamation. “Oh, right! Uh, while I’m doing this, do you want to go buy supplies? You know, water at the very least, maybe some more coolant for the thermal pipe, and some maintenance stuff just in case? I have my chit here somewhere, hold on…”_

_Thie blinked slowly and nodded, taking the chit when Kel presented it to him. “Sure, I guess. I’ll, uh, be right back.”_

_He regretted agreeing almost the instant he reentered the colony proper, the sinking feeling he got when he saw even more humans clustered around the male in blues—Raleigh, if he remembered right—in the courtyard almost rivalling the feeling he got whenever his father was around, especially once he overheard what was being said._

_“What do you mean, Natasha didn’t come back?” a young woman was asking, cheeks wet with what looked to be worried tears. “And Quinn and Loren and David?”_

_“What about Adam?” called someone else, a human male. “I can’t get in touch with him, Leigh. Adam_ always _has his comm on. What’s going on?”_

_The man in blues, Raleigh, ran a hand through his hair, leaving it all standing up on end. “We got some reports of gunfire from Lin’s outpost right before Tash and Quinn and the others were supposed to get there. Then comms dropped, just like with Adam. Best I can figure, it’s slavers.” Murmuring quickly drowned him out, though it quieted again when he raised his voice and said, “For your own safety, everyone should return to their homes and lock the doors. Turn out lights, hide in closets, do whatever you can to stay out of sight and out of mind. Dan, Ray, get your boys together and arm ‘em up—looks like we’re going hunting.”_

* * *

Haasn broke off with a quiet whine, burying his face in his hands, and Raan quickly reached over to gently rub his back again, murmuring soothingly to him. “You’re doing very well,” she told him, “and I’m very proud of you.”

“Do you need anything?” Aela asked from beside her, halfway between standing and sitting in her frantic resurgence of motherly instinct. “Tea, a blanket?”

Haasn inhaled slowly, taking a few more minutes to calm, then quietly answered, “I’d- I’d like a bl- a blanke-ket, please…”

“Of course, of course.” Raan continued rubbing his back while Aela vanished off to procure a blanket—a large, soft, fuzzy one she’d made for Han back when he was younger that she kept in reserve for exactly this sort of purpose—and draping the blanket around his shoulders once it had been handed to her. Haasn clung to it like his life depended on it, burying his face in the soft polyester. She gave him a moment to calm, then gently asked, “Can you continue your story?”

Haasn took a shaky breath in and nodded.

* * *

_He felt obligated to help. After all, the humans had done everything they could to help_ them _, so wasn’t it only right for them to stick around? Besides, he told himself as he trailed after one of the colonists assigned to the perimeter of the little spaceport, Kel probably wasn’t finished fixing the drive core yet, so they couldn’t leave anyway. It was in his best interest to help. His best interest. Their best interest._

_Ancestors spare him, he didn’t have a clue what he was doing._

_And he didn’t have a moment to reconsider again. Somewhere ahead of him, there was a shout, a shot, a flash of blue-white light, and a body crashing to the ground._

_Thie jolted back into reality as a batarian raised his head and shouted, garbled words his translator could only translate into jumbled syllables that didn’t make any sense, rifle rising to firing position again. Behind him, another batarian—another slaver—staggered into view, red trickling from a graze in his shoulder, shotgun clutched in red-stained hands._

_Thie stared, then panicked and ran._

_All the training in the galaxy couldn’t have prepared him for a slaver attack. Even marine training, and he hadn’t interned, hadn’t thought it necessary or thought himself worth trying it. His mother, Cila, had taught him only the basics of self-defense, and he could hear a little voice in the back of his head, the voice of a frightened young boy Thie himself could no longer remember, telling him that it wouldn’t be enough._

_Another batarian came around a corner in front of him, mouth only barely forming the beginning of the word “oh” before Thie’s arms lit pale blue and sent him careening head-first into a wall. The slaver crumpled to the ground behind him, and Thie didn’t stop to see if he was still moving._

_Tearing around another corner, Thie heaved himself through a small gap in the habitats, praising the ancestors for his pathetic diet of nutrient paste and the hope of returning home in one piece as he only just squeezed through. He could hear running behind him, coarse voices yelling something in a closed dialect as he pressed his back into an indent in the habitat’s side, holding his breath though he knew no one could hear it anyway. When the sounds faded, he pulled up his omni-tool only just long enough to send Kel a warning._

>SLAVERS HERE TURN OFF CORE HIDE

* * *

Haasn broke off again, face pale as paper and dripping with perspiration. His breath came in quick, ragged pants, and Raan instinctively knew why: the next part to the story was the one she needed.

She reached for his shoulder again, doing her best to soothe him back down from his panic. Beside her, Aela cast her a worried glance that said, _“Should we keep going?”_ Raan only nodded. Then she turned back to Haasn and stooped a bit, waiting for his eyes to focus on her before asking, “Do you need a break?”

Haasn whimpered and nodded.

“Then we can take a break.” Motherly instincts won over and she moved to brush a lock of his hair out of his eyes, _tsk_ ing gently at the pallor of his skin. Whatever happened next in the story had had a terrible effect on the poor boy, that much was clear. Though, considering it involved slavers, she honestly wasn’t surprised—in fact, she was more surprised that he was holding himself together as well as he was, with a Pilgrimage as bad as his clearly had been. She’d had more severe cases than he who had been traumatized by far less during their Pilgrimages; to hear the sort of things Thie’Haasn had seen and lived on his and to know that until recent events, he’d been more or less a functional, healthy quarian young adult, was… astonishing. She couldn’t think of another way to put it. Simply astonishing.

More as an afterthought than anything else, she pulled up her omni-tool and sent a quick message to one of the nurses. Within minutes, the door opened quietly, and Madelivio drifted in, talons almost unnervingly quiet on the floor, just the barest whisper of a scratch rather than the usual _clack_. She moved away to make room for him, and he bobbed his head respectfully, then, in one fluid motion, settled down next to Haasn and hauled him into his lap. After a few minutes of fussing, Haasn was neatly settled between Madelivio’s legs, the turian’s arms wrapped around his waist and chin tucked on his head. If Raan strained her ears, she could just barely hear the soft rumble of turian subvocals. Then there was a short burst of motion as Haasn started squirming, wriggling around so he could throw the blanket around Madelivio’s shoulders without getting it caught on the small, blunted spurs on his elbows.

Raan nodded a thanks to Madelivio, who only hummed in response, then looked to Haasn. “What happened after you sent your friend the message, Thie’Haasn?”

Haasn inhaled slowly, letting out the breath in a slow, quiet sigh. “I-I went back out. They- I felt- I _had_ to,” he quietly explained, voice trembling pitifully. Madelivio grunted and dropped his mandibles until they could flutter lightly against Haasn’s skull, and Haasn visibly relaxed. “There… there weren’t a whole lot more, um, fights, or- or anything… an-and when there- when there _were_ , they were- they kept- kept shooting at my legs instead of my chest.” He gave a slow, wordless shrug. “They- I should’ve guessed, they wanted me alive.”

He paused to take another slow breath in, settling back against Madelivio’s cowl and pulling the blanket snug up against his chin. “I- I went for the spaceport. Figured they were- they- I figured they were load- were-” He swallowed hard, then quietly said, “I figured that’s where they were loading their… their… _cargo_ … and I wanted to- I thought if I, if I took vid, I could- maybe the Alliance would-“

Madelivio chirred quietly and tilted his head, clacking the side of his head against the top of Haasn’s forehead and rubbing his—well, it wasn’t his cheek, but the part above his jaw—along it in what Raan assumed to be a soothing gesture. Whatever it was, it seemed to work, the tension flooding back out of Haasn’s body and color back into his face.

Then he started talking again, and Raan felt herself grow pale.

* * *

_Thie felt the bullet enter his arm before he even registered the muzzle flash, felt the way his flesh split and his bone exploded into shrapnel as the bullet struck, disintegrating the area of impact and reducing the rest of the bone within an inch radius into little more than powder, felt it crack and splinter all the way from his wrist to his elbow. His right shoulder cracked against the metal habitat, tearing another shout of pain from his empty lungs as the recoil from the blow sent him spinning down. His mask cracked against the old-fashioned concrete slab serving as a walkway between sections and his vision blurred._

_When he came to his senses again, the batarian he’d seen before stood above him, shotgun still in one hand, the other pressed to what he assumed was probably a comm device in whatever served as a batarian ear. He was barking in the closed dialect—a rough, ugly language to ears used to the musical lilt of Khelish._

_Thie waited for him to look distracted, biting back whimpers as the numbness in his arm flared into indistinct agony, then gathered all the energy he could and flung his uninjured arm up._

_The ball of energy struck the slaver between the legs, sending him into a somersault over Thie’s head and crumpling to the ground somewhere behind him. Thie paid him no mind, scrambling to his feet and snatching for the shotgun now lying somewhere to his right. He forgot momentarily about his injured right arm and remembered it quickly, choosing to hold it close to his body where it would be less likely injured again, and snatched the weapon up with his left._

_Only seconds of biotic devastation later, or at least it felt that way, Thie felt a boot meet the back of his right shin as it was caught in just the wrong way against the ground and had the unpleasant pleasure of feeling his leg snap in much the same way as his arm had._

_He collapsed with an agonized cry, waves of mind-numbing agony tearing in turns through his body as the slaver who had snapped his leg like a twig brought his heel down on it again. As he turned to try and fight, a biotic aura flickering to life like Rannoch’s auroras of old, one of the slavers snatched the shotgun from his hand and slammed the butt of it into his visor, snapping his head back._

_Between the stars in his vision and ringing in his ears, he saw, he_ heard _his visor crack._

_He collapsed backwards, stunned, and hands grabbed either arm and his head and his legs and pinned them in awkward, painful positions, their grasps stronger than what little strength Thie still had. From what little he could see between the awkward angle and the hairline crack spidering across his visor, one of them—a lieutenant, from the looks of it, with beautiful violet and silver armor and breathtaking, almost holy-looking stained glass ‘wings’ sprawling out behind him—appeared to be talking to the one who’d cracked his mask, appeared to have swung a hand out and flung the other batarian to his apparent death in a wave of silvery blue, and appeared to be coming his way._

_The one in the lovely violet and silver turned him over, head tilted only just slightly to the left, and placed one knee on his chest and the other on his injured arm’s palm, and said, “This is going to hurt, and then you’re going to go to sleep for a while. I’m sorry.”_

_Thie tried to struggle. He really did. But the batarian with the wings and the beautiful armor simply uncapped a sterile syringe, slid it into the emergency injection port in Thie’s right elbow, and depressed the plunger._

_And that was all he could remember._

* * *

Raan didn’t know what to say. What could she say? She’d known going in it would be bad, and she’d listened to countless horror stories before, but never in her life had she ever been fully prepared to hear the full brunt of what those stories held, and now was no different.

“Thank you, Thie’Haasn,” she said quietly, clasping his hand. “That will be all, I think, for now.  Dr. Den and I must speak in private for a moment, then we’ll be back. Is that alright?”

Haasn nodded slightly, and Madelivio let out a soft, sad little chirr and pressed the top of his head against the back of Haasn’s. Swallowing a lump in her throat, Raan pushed herself to stand on legs that felt as heavy as the _Neema_ ’s main gun and numbly drifted out, a quiet rustling indicating Aela was close behind. Just as she palmed the holo-lock, she saw in the corner of her eye Madelivio raise his arms to Haasn’s chest, hugging him close against his cowl.

Out in the hall, she moved a fair distance away from the door, then sighed and turned to Aela. “Keelah…” she breathed, rubbing at the back of her neck. With a heavy sigh, she asked, “He’s your patient. How do you want to proceed?”

Aela exhaled, long and slow. “I’m not really sure,” she said carefully. “I knew it was bad, but… Keelah, that mission must have just blown all the progress to pieces. We’re going to need to be careful.”

Raan nodded. That much was obvious. “No active duty. Not for a long while.”

“No, of course not,” she agreed, nodding and raising a hand to cup her chin. “At least now I have the whole story. I can figure out a proper treatment plan from here, but it’ll take time. For now, I think…” She hummed thoughtfully. “Rest, obviously. He can stay here on the _Tonbay_ , so we can keep an eye on him.”

Raan folded her arms, looking at her feet as she thought. “Han is friends with one of the Neema’s lead comm specialists. He says Haasn has been helping the comms team with their work, I can ask Ashalla’Shalen if she’d be willing to coordinate some work for him to do while he’s staying here.”

Den made a noise of agreement. “We’ll allow visitors, of course. He’s been making friends, they’ll want to check up on him. Once he’s picked up a little, we can see about other forms of entertainment. He needs low-energy things for now, nothing that will get him too excited.”

“Right.” She moved to check her omni-tool as it beeped, knowing before the message opened who it was. “Han’s here. I should go and meet him, if you don’t mind finishing up without me?”

“Of course not, Admiral. Go ahead.”

She nodded and shook Aela’s hand, then drifted off toward the docking bay, mind whirling. She wasn’t sure if it was instinct or habit, but regardless, she found herself comparing what she knew of Haasn’s Pilgrimage to what few sketchy details Han had reluctantly admitted to her (or, in some cases, called her shortly after the experience crying and then denied fervently upon his return to the Fleet) of his own. What if the same thing had happened to her son? What if something not similar but just as horrifying had gone down? What if, what if, what if.

She’d thought she’d managed to keep her face impassive as she entered the bay, but there must have been something in her eyes, because no sooner had Han seen her than his eyes went wide with what years of experience and motherly instinct told her was nothing short of fear. “Mum,” he said, rushing over to take her hands in his, panic creeping into his voice, “what is it? What’s wrong?”

She hesitated, then threw her arms around him and hugged him tight, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Every day,” she breathed, “every day, I thank the ancestors you came back to me safely.”

She felt him tense, but she didn’t dare let go, for fear she’d start crying then and there. Slowly, hesitantly, she felt Han’s arms wrap around her, then pull her in as tight as he dared. “Shh, shh,” he soothed, rubbing between her shoulder blades. “It’s alright, Mum, don’t worry. I’m okay. Everyone’s going to be okay.”

He didn’t believe himself. She could hear it in his voice: the dull, relentless apathy that seeped into the very fiber of his being during a bad depressive swing, even with his medication. She’d ask him about it later, she decided. The last thing either of them needed right now was an interrogation. Slowly, reluctantly, she removed her arms from around his neck and slid away. “Come along now, Han,” she said quietly, taking one of his hands and indulging herself in the briefest of moments to hold her son in a death grip, betraying her own horror at what she had to say. “Let us go to my office. I’ll tell you everything there.”

* * *

The terminal beeped incessantly these days. Everyone needed a favor, everyone needed _him_. It was more than a little irritating, really.

Spam mail. Spam mail. Payment notification. Birthday reminder. More spam mail. Useless, useless, _useless_. He had more important work to do.

He turned away from the terminal, gathering a heavy woolen cloak, long enough that it just barely grazed the ground, around himself with one hand and grabbing his walking staff with the other, and shuffled toward the back room. It was horribly drafty in here, always was, but rent was good, location was better, and the extranet connection wasn’t as terrible as it was elsewhere on the station. He could put up with a draft for that.

The varren had moved his bed in front of the radiator again. He couldn’t blame him, really; poor old beast was rail-thin, and even with the spare blankets he’d piled onto the bed, he still needed the extra heat to keep from shivering. As he shambled by, a nose poked out of the pile, snuffling at him until he was far enough away that lunging forward for a friendly, slobbery kiss would take him out of the heavy warmth of the dog bed, then contentedly retreated back out of the cold.

Weird old thing.

He still hadn’t gotten around to sorting out his literal boxes of archived information. He kept meaning to, but at the same time, he knew where everything was, so why bother making it so anybody else could? It made no sense, he groused to himself as he pulled out the second box from the left. The datapads inside were stacked haphazardly, overlapping each other in more ways than he would have thought physically possible if he hadn’t packed them himself. The one he was after was somewhere in the middle, he knew. Immigration processing documents. Last year’s tax forms. A complete history of the Salarian Union arranged to the theme of _Kepesh-Yakshi_ (he made a mental note to strangle his brother next time he saw him). Ah, here it was: hundreds of compressed files of old cipher keys used by the STG, the turian Blackwatch, more than a few branches of the Shadow Broker’s organization, and countless more. There were even a few the Spectres had been known to toy with.

With a grunt of effort, he hobbled over to the more private terminal he stored back here, away from prying eyes. “Compose new message,” he told it, digging in a drawer for the cord that would allow him to transfer the data from the pad to his terminal. “Subject header: Requested ciphers. Receiving location: Migrant Fleet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's play a fun game called "Spot the Foreshadowing."
> 
> The next couple chapters will be a bit slow. The plot's not stagnating, but a couple chapters of just "Thie was very sad and stared at a wall" would be boring, so we're doing some filler rather than timeskipping.


	21. No, This Chapter Doesn't Introduce More Recurring Characters, Chill

**Galactic Standard Day 2, Week 1, Month 5, Year 2910**

**(Late Mid Terran Year 2170 CE)**

Gerrel laced his fingers together behind his head and leaned back until he was lying on top of the counter, staring up at the ceiling of the commons area. “So,” he said idly, “has anyone seen Ashalla? She usually shows up to these things.”

Off to his side, Hazir answered, “Yes, she has long blonde hair, stands about this tall…”

Gerrel sat up and pulled one of his pauldrons off, then threw it at Hazir, ignoring the round of snorts and snickers coming from the rest of the gathered marines. “Everybody’s a comedian,” he groused, shaking his head.

Zaemin stifled the last of his laughter and said, “She passed by me with her terminal a half-hour ago. Said she had a lot of work to do.”

“Huh. Well, that’s nothing new, at least.” Gerrel shook out his shoulders, then stretched his arms out in front of him. “Anyway. Where’s Xala?”

Ashalla was probably the only one who had _anything_ to do that day, really. Rael had said Raalun was starting some new experiment she wouldn’t tell anybody about and didn’t want help with, so Special Projects was mostly just waiting around for its science stuff to do itself. The Patrol Fleet had only just sent out scouting vessels, so it would be a while before either they or the Heavy Fleet had any jobs to take a crack at. And Civilian Fleet never did much of anything. _Neema_ command had decided to take the opportunity to hold orientation for the latest batch of recruits for the marines, with an unspoken open invitation for any current marines with nothing else to do to come hang around. He was pretty sure he, Hazir, and Todor were the only ones required to be there; Lia had come with Todor and brought the baby so he’d stop whining about his parents never spending any time with him, Zaemin had decided that wherever his friends were was where he needed to be, and even Savval had drifted in, eyes puffy from crying but obviously doing her best to act normal. Xala was supposed to be gathering the recruits and leading them to the commons area, but no sign of him yet.

Madelivio, sitting quietly in the corner after visiting Haasn for a solid three hours, raised his head and sniffed. “I don’t smell ’im,” he mumbled, flicking his mandibles slowly. “Not nearby, anyway.”

“What _do_ you smell?” Lila’Yaana asked, tilting her head.

Madelivio blinked slowly, then took a deep, long snuffle and snorted. “Coffee. Really, really _strong_ coffee. Not much else.”

Gerrel grinned and hopped off the counter. “That _is_ Xala, actually. Asked him to bring me a pot before low energy sunk my brain back into the Despair Void.”

“You’re so dramatic, Han,” Xala said, trotting in with a pot of coffee in hand and trailed by a veritable crowd of recruits. “Are you going to use a mug like a reasonable person, or..?”

“Xala, babe,” Gerrel drawled, loping over to plant a smooch on his husband’s visor, “don’t be _ridiculous.”_

Xala rolled his eyes as he handed over the pot, reaching out to ruffle what little hair Gerrel had with an affectionate, “You’re impossible," as he started to move away. Then he turned to the recruits and started directing them to find somewhere to settle.

Meanwhile, Gerrel trotted back over to the counter, gesturing for the others to find him the usual things one added to coffee. Sugar went first, of course. Nearly a third of the bag, since he had an entire pot. Watching him stir it in, Hazir raised a brow. “You’re gonna die.”

“Yep!” he chirped, reaching for the _hicrima_ they’d imported from Palaven Zaemin was offering. “Ever see what happens when ADHD and more caffeine than is medically advisable mix?”

“Why is it always up to me to be the voice of reason?” Hazir complained. He leveled an accusing finger at Xala as he drifted up. “You’re an enabler, you are. He has these awful ideas, and you just go ahead with it no matter how dumb it is.”

Xala snorted, reaching up to pull his helmet off. He took a moment to shake his head, dispelling the static that always built up and getting his hair to settle neatly back into place so artfully Gerrel swore he could make a lot of money modeling, then said, “Kalon’Hazir, drinking an entire pot of coffee is the _tamest_ of his bad ideas. The ones that are actually worth worrying about are the ones I bother discouraging. You know this as well as I do.”

Hazir snorted right back. “Yes, but you lot have to admit, I get left to be the sensible one a whole awful lot. Are you going to do the speech or what?”

“Or what,” Gerrel said with a cheeky grin. “Let’s see how long we can go before any of them start whining.”

“No, Han.” Xala reached over to ruffle his hair again. “I did the ‘welcome to the _Neema’_ part, Hazir, if you wouldn’t mind going from there?”

“Sure.” Hazir hopped down from his chair and loped over to the crowd of recruits, giving a sharp whistle to draw their attention. “Oi, listen up, gather in, you lot! My name is Lieutenant-Commander Kalon’Hazir vas _Neema_ , second mate…”

Gerrel tuned him out, hiking up his legs to fold them neatly underneath himself. “Somebody start a timer. Any bets on how long before we get a ‘sir, why is there a turian on board’ question?”

One of the recruits shot their hand into the air, and Savval muttered, “Ten seconds.”

Sure enough: “Lieutenant-Commander, sir, there’s a turian over there.”

Gerrel swore he could hear Hazir twitch. “I’m well aware.”

“But, sir, _why_ is it here?”

Madelivio let out a low rumble at being referred to as an ‘it’. “Easy, kid,” Gerrel warned, holding out a hand. “Wait and see.”

Hazir _harrumph_ ed. “Axilus Madelivio is here on special permission from the Admiralty Board. Any complaints can be taken up with them.”

“He means _me_.” Gerrel gave the recruit his very best menacing grin.

The kid looked somewhat taken aback. “You, sir?”

Gerrel jauntily saluted. “Han’Gerrel vas _Neema_ nar _Tonbay_ , kid. Admiral of the Heavy Fleet and captain of the very ship you’re standing in.” He bared his teeth again. “So _play nice.”_

The kid paled, and Gerrel laughed. Xala just rolled his eyes and elbowed him. “Han, follow your own advice.”

“You never let me have any fun.” He stuck his tongue out at him, then planted a kiss on his cheek. “It’s cute.”

Xala turned bright red, and Gerrel grinned. “Aw, I love you, too.”

Hazir folded his arms. “Can I go on now?”

Gerrel waved a hand. “Go ahead, ignore the witty commentary.”

"You're not witty." Hazir rolled his eyes and went back to talking, and Gerrel motioned for the others to gather in. He took a quick headcount- himself, Xala, Zaemin, Madelivio, Lia and Todor (plus the baby, but a two-year-old hardly counted), Del’Haasn and his girlfriend, Savval, Seyya, Lila’Yaana and a couple of her usual flock, and little Tavvi. “Right, so every one of you is a senior marine, as far as these kids are concerned, yeah?”

The pre-Pilgrimage kids near Yaana looked between themselves, and he added, “Yes, even you. They don’t know any better. We’re all in this one together, mate.”

“Han, what are you talking about?” Xala asked.

“That kid’s gonna be annoying, I feel it in my soul, Razi, darling.”

Xala groaned. “You only call me that when you’re up to something.”

“Not at the moment, no. Just wait.”

Todor sighed. “What makes you so sure that one’s going to be trouble?”

“Now, see here, Sonny Boy,” he said, choosing to ignore the groan Todor gave in response to the nickname, “I ran my dear old mum ragged as a kid. I know troublemakers when I see them.”

“Watter you folk up to all secret-like?”

The group collectively jumped, then parted so they could see Nahza waltzing on in, carrying a small toolbox. “Nahza,” Gerrel said flatly, “why are you here?”

“Well, ya see sir, I ain’t filled my daily quota’a botherin’ Savval," he gave a goofy grin at Savval's exaggerated groan and dramatically bowed, "so here I is.”

“You’re doing the bad grammar thing on purpose. Look over there, Hazir’s twitching.”

Nahza laughed, then shook his head and jerked a thumb towards the wall. “Naw, I’s just s’posed ta find some wirin’ issue with the lights an’ the wall an’ Savval, yer sittin’ where I need, so scoot.”

Savval blinked slowly, distinctly unimpressed. “Was that even Khelish?”

Gerrel grunted. “Fuck if I know. Did anybody understand that?”

Nahza’s lips twitched like he was fighting an amused grin. “Yeah, betcha understand _this.”_

He made a rather vulgar hand gesture, and Gerrel let out an exaggerated gasp, placing a hand over his heart. “Nahza! I’m your superior officer!”

Nahza snorted. “Yeah, more like _posterior_ officer. Ain’t that right, Commander?”

Xala turned so red Gerrel was briefly concerned he might pass out, but he quickly set that worry aside in favor of laughing uproariously. “Okay, okay, I’ll give you that one,” he said as he regained control of himself, “That was good.”

Nahza saluted, grinning again. “Happy ta help, sir. Savval, scootch yer boot, please.” He nudged Savval with his foot until she moved, allowing him access to the wall panel behind her.

Gerrel’s grin faded as he heard an unwelcome voice say, “Is that an _Omega_ dialect?”

He turned to see that, sure enough, the same recruit had spoken, their nose wrinkled and lip curled like they’d just smelled something awful. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Savval spoke for him. “Hey, kid, you got a problem with Nahza, you deal with me,” she said sharply, jabbing a thumb towards herself.

Nahza paused in dismantling the wall, glancing over his shoulder. “Aw, Donya, ya do care!”

“Shaddap.”

Nahza gave her a big, dopey, gap-toothed grin, then set the wall panel to one side and slithered halfway inside. There were a few clunks and some muffled curses, then his hand re-emerged, fumbled around for the toolbox, somehow managed to find a wrench, and returned to its owner.

While Hazir scolded the recruit for their rude and rather unnecessary comment, Nahza shifted to try and reach something further in, and accidentally kicked his toolbox away. There was a muffled, echoing string of curses, and Savval raised a brow, then shot a sleazy “watch this” sort grin towards the rest of the group. She ambled over to Nahza, one hand on her elbow. “Hey, Nahza,” she said jovially, undoing the latch holding her right forearm on and pulling it off in one smooth motion, “need a hand?”

Nahza, or what Gerrel could see of him anyway, tensed, then he started moving to pull himself out of the wall. “Savval, if you’re doing what I think you’re-” At the sight of Savval’s prosthetic being waved practically in his face, his mouth turned down and his brow furrowed in the most comically exaggerated scowl Gerrel had ever seen, and he promptly chucked the wrench in his hand at her, howling,  ** _“DAGNABBIT, DONYA!”_**

Savval cracked up, stumbling back to use the counter for support. The rest of the gang followed suit, doubling over and falling over themselves with laughter. Zaemin slapped his thigh in mock anger, calling, “You beat me to it, Savval!”

“Sorry!” she said, in the voice that said she most certainly was not.

And then, as if on cue, rising over the mad cackling of the gathered marines like the incessant whining of a misaligned power coupling: “Keelah, you have _cyborgs_ here?”

And Gerrel had thought people this intensely dense only existed on extranet forums, anonymously denying obvious mental illness and nonstandard sexuality in fictional characters.

He bridled, opening his mouth to give the kid a thorough reaming-out, only for Zaemin to interrupt him with a burbling laugh as he turned to make sure the recruit could see his prosthetics properly. “Oh, sorry, does this _bother_ you?”

In one quick motion, he reached up and undid the… latches, or whatever, holding his arm on and let the whole damn thing just fall clean off with a sharp clang and a rattle, leaving behind the bare stump. “Is that better? I can take the leg off, too." He knocked on his leg, watching the recruit flinch at the metallic echo. "And I think I might be able to get the eye out, if you give me, like, an hour and a mirror. Can’t do anything about the brain bits, though. I need those.”

As Zaemin talked, Gerrel watched the recruit get steadily paler and Saar’s grin get steadily wider. And critics said art was dead. Hah.

The kid stammered for a moment, then blurted, “Well- well that doesn’t count! The brain and stuff- that’s all stuff you _need!”_

Zaemin blinked very slowly. “Kid, I don’t know if you’ve noticed this or not, but I don’t have an arm or a leg. I do in fact need these. And so does Savval, and so does Seyya, and Haasn, and Gerrel, and Madelivio-”

Madelivio grunted. “Are you sure mine counts?”

“The leg would fall apart without it, wouldn’t it?”

Madelivio considered this, then shrugged. “That’s fair.”

"Wait." Tavvi blinked rapidly. "Haasn and Madelivio?”

Gerrel grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Boy, oh boy, it’s _story time_.”

"Oh, oh!" Savval raised her stump excitedly, then looked at it for a moment as her mix-up processed, then switched arms, waving the hand holding her prosthetic. “I call first!”

The recruit sputtered. “That’s not-”

“Kid,” Gerrel interrupted, briefly taking on an air of dead seriousness, “shut the fuck up.”

The kid shut up.

Savval grinned, popping her arm back into place and working on the fasteners. “Okay, it was like this, see-”

“She caught a grenade,” Gerrel said cheerfully.

“There’s more to it than that!” she protested. “See, we were investigating this station that had stopped reporting in, and the place turned out to be just _infested_ with mercs. We’re penned in, right, but we’re not going down without a fight, no way, no how. We’d been pickin’ ’em off, one by one, and they were down to maybe, like, five people? Maybe six? Iunno. Anyway, one of ’em tossed in a grenade-”

“- an’ then Savval picked it up an’ baseball-hocked it righ’ on back inna ’is face, an’ her arm jus’ besploded from the sheer awesome of it!” Nahza called from inside the wall. Then he swore as something presumably fell on him and muttered, "Aw, dagnabbit."

Savval rolled her eyes, muttering something derogatory, then said, “I don’t even know what ‘baseball’ is.”

“Iunno. Some human said somethin’ about it ta Mama. Can one'a y'all hand me a six spanner?”

"The fuck's a six spanner?"

Nahza snorted. "Anna think y'all call _me_ dumb."

"Would you idiots let me finish?” She shook her head and continued, “ _Anyway_ , I caught the damn thing like a fucking moron. It turned out to be a flashbang, which is why I’m still alive, but the force of the blast shattered my arm beyond repair. It was easier to just lop off the whole mess and get me a shiny metal new one than try to go in and do all the surgery to fix it.” She looked at her arm, flexing the metal fingers, then added, “Besides, it probably wouldn’t have functioned too great, anyway. At least this one _works_.”

The recruit squirmed. “Yes, well-”

“Seyya, tell him about your hand,” Savval said before they could finish, folding her arms across her chest and pointedly looking away from them.

Han made some weird face like a bizarre mix of a scowl and a pout. “I got shot. Three times. In the exact same spot. First geth, then Collectors.”

Half the gathered recruits’ eyes went wide as the rivets on a drive core. “Collectors?” one whispered, voice cracking midway through.

“Oh yeah, that was fun. Ask Xala.”

Xala made a face. “Do not ask Xala.”

“You’re no fun." Gerrel made a face back, then shrugged. "Fine, ask Lia. I hear she blew one’s face up. With _her_ face.”

Lia beamed, and Todor clapped his hands over baby Kael’s head. _“Not in front of the baby!_  He’s still innocent and doesn’t need to know what Mommy and Daddy do when they leave.”

Lia stuck her tongue out at him and Todor mimicked it back at her. Savval rolled her eyes. “Anyway, Seyya’s got a metal hand and some replacement tendons. X-ray technicians _hate_ him. Interferes with the science science big words something something something stuff.”

“Very technical,” Xala said dryly.

“Thank you, sir, I’ve been studying.”

Seyya coughed. “Ax had something done to his leg.”

Madelivio’s mandibles fluttered. “Iunno, it’s nothing really big…”

“Zaemin said it counts,” Lia said. “I think he’s the expert on this.”

“Fair enough.” He shrugged and spread his hands. “I fell out of a tree when I was eight. Me and my friends were having a contest to see who could go the highest. I _would’ve_ won, but this stupid _telal_ bird scared me, and I lost my grip. You should’ve heard my mom, she was _so_ mad at me for scaring her so bad.” He bared his teeth. “My brother caught the stupid bird, though. Snapped its twiggy little neck. He was fourteen, so he was a better hunter than me, and he brought me the corpse. Mom made stew.”

Lila’Yaana snapped her fingers at him. “Focus, Ax.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Anyway, so it snapped my shin plate in half, and they had to reinforce it with a thulium-and-protein matrix, or it wouldn’t’ve healed. I have to keep getting new ones every ten years, ’cause they get absorbed by the plate over time.” He ducked his head and fluttered his mandibles. “That’s nothing compared to Thie, though.”

As if on cue, everyone’s heads turned to look at Del and Tazi. Del, who had apparently been playing with his lip, froze like a varren caught in a skycar’s headlights, and Tazi gently reached over and patted his shoulder. After a moment’s hesitation, Del started signing to her, and she translated, “Thie was a preemie. Born too early, what with the stress of the biotic thing and all. Legs didn’t get to form properly, so they’ve been super frail since birth. He had to get a bunch of reinforcements, and some parts got replaced entirely.”

Madelivio bobbed his head. “I saw the scans on the _Anchrivos_. His left leg is almost entirely cybernetic. The bones, anyway.”

Gerrel whistled. “Harsh.”

Zaemin nodded sagely. “Eezo-induced birth defects. Saw a lot of them in Mannovai. Place is built near a constantly-erupting volcano, keeps pushing out eezo that gets into their water. Water's needed for safe places to lay their eggs, so you see a lot of deformities and biotics and stillbirths and such.”

Del went white as a sheet at the word ‘stillbirths,’ and Zaemin hastily amended, “The salarians don’t mind, though. I heard Mannovai has the best accessibility in the galaxy, ’cause so many of them are born odd. You got an eezo-based problem, you go to Mannovai.”

Del relaxed infinitesimally, and Zaemin coughed awkwardly, then elbowed Gerrel. “Tell ’em about the grenade, dude.”

A recruit tilted their head. “You already said how Savval lost his arm.”

"She," Zaemin corrected, waving a hand. “Different one.”

 _"She?"_ the snotty recruit said, in a tone that was very quickly getting on Gerrel's nerves.

 _"She,"_ Nahza jumped in before Savval had even finished opening her mouth, "is a lovely _woman_ who could kick yer ass from here to the Citadel an' back. You wanner try'n say anythin' real dumb otherwise, gotta go through _me."_

Zaemin coughed loudly. "Now, now, I'm sure we don't need to start fights over Savval, I know _she's_ a very pretty _lady_ , could probably definitely get some modeling work with the asari, but you'll have to sort out who gets to ask _her_ out on your own time, no guarantees about whether or not _she'll_ say yes. Now, it's Han'Gerrel Story Time, and we all know how upset Han'Gerrel gets when there is not Han'Gerrel Story Time during Han'Gerrel Story Time."

Gerrel took his cue and sniffed dramatically, wiping away a nonexistent tear. "It's just not the _same."_

Zaemin grinned, though the look he shot at the recruit very clearly implied murder. _"As I was saying,_ tell 'em about the grenade."

Gerrel blinked, then grinned back. “Aw, but if I tell that one, I gotta tell the follow-up, too.”

Zaemin's grin began to edge towards 'gleefully sadistic' rather than 'teasing'. “I don’t think Xala will mind, will you, Xal?”

Xala grimaced. “Don’t call me that.”

“That’s not a ‘don’t tell it,’ my friend. Go for it.”

Gerrel rubbed his hands together. “Well,” he began, “we were going after these pirates that were refusing to leave us alone, right- oh, this was ages before me, Xala, and Hazir were officers, mind- and _this_ smartass sniper,” he paused briefly to throw an arm around Xala’s shoulders and punch him affectionately in the arm, “kept stealing my shots. We were already a thing at this point, but I was getting real annoyed, so I went to yell at him to knock it off, but as I was turning around, one of the pirates decided that was the perfect time to throw a grenade.

“The thing bounced off a crate next to my head and landed on my foot, I about up and died of fright right there, and kicked. It went up high, and right at the top, _boom_. Shattered my visor, cut up my face with glass and shrapnel, about near killed me. Doctors said I was lucky to be alive. You should’ve heard Xala, he was just hysterical, poor thing.” He planted a little kiss on Xala’s cheek and rubbed his shoulder, then went on, “So they get me back to medical, stitch up my whole face so I look like a patchwork ragdoll, and turns out the glass ripped up my cornea and iris. Completely useless. Had to go in, replace the lens and parts of the iris, and implant some fancy cybernetics that would warp the light as it hit the lens after it’d already been warped by the fucked-up cornea. Still got a blind spot, but at least I can still use the damn thing in a pinch.”

Zaemin gave him a broad grin. “And then what happened?”

He beamed and ruffled Xala’s hair, noticing his husband had turned a faint pink. “Well, my mum was visiting, all worried, and when she came in, this perfect angel of a quarian was checking in on me. He left to give us some space, but he was still hovering, ’cause he worries something awful. Mum says he seemed nice, and I said yeah, he was great, and then I look over at him, and I make sure I’m loud enough so he can hear, and I ask Mum, ‘D’you think he’ll say yes?’ And let me tell you, the look on his face was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Xala made a choked sort of noise. “Han…”

“Love you,” Gerrel said, and then immediately leaned in and gave him a big, wet smooch right on his cheek.

Xala flushed brightly, and Gerrel grinned, giving him a tight hug. “I know I moan a lot, but I love you, yeah?”

Xala hugged him back, then pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You’re so sweet. I love you, too.”

Somebody coughed, and they broke apart, taking a moment to straighten out their suits before Gerrel looked at Zaemin. “You mind being the grand finale?”

Zaemin beamed. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He laced his fingers together and hooked them behind his head, lounging back, and cheerfully summarized, “A building fell on me.”

At least one of the recruits turned white as a sheet, and Nahza, by now pulling his head out of the wall and moving to re-bolt the panel back into place, snorted. “Way ta ruin the drama.”

“Nah, it’s not ruining the drama, Jorren, more like warning anyone with a weak stomach to wuss on out before I get _really_ into it.” Zaemin cracked a grin, then glanced around once or twice and chirped, “No one’s leaving, though, so looks like I’m good to go!”

“Anyway, so, it goes like this.” He motioned towards himself. “Most of you don’t know, but I wasn’t raised on the Fleet. Born on Illium, actually, to a non-returner and a Pilgrim. I wanted to go back to the Fleet, though—grew up hearing all these grand ol’ stories about it from my dad—so when I turned old enough to make my own choices without fucking it up too spectacularly, I went out to figure out what I could do.” He shrugged, folding his hands behind his head again. “Turns out I’m good with tactics. Or, well, I was. Not so sure anymore, what with all the tech in my head. It might be more the tech than me anymore, but, well, that comes later.

“So I went to work with the turians first, right, heard they had all sorts of neat tactics that I thought could benefit the Fleet and the marines and stuff, learned a bunch of shit from them, then went to the asari and did the same thing, so on and so forth with the—I think I worked with the hanar once? Can’t really remember. But eventually, I wound up with the salarians.”

Zaemin’s smile grew a fraction. “And one time, while I was out with the STG—or, I _assume_ it was the STG, but it might have been the- the- I dunno, the salarian version of the human mafia or something, who knows with them—we went to raid this pirate base on this old abandoned colony, right? I thought it’d be one and done, pretty easy and shit.”

“And long story short, he had a building fall on his face,” Gerrel interrupted, dumbass grin still across his face. Zaemin snorted and nodded towards him.

“Basically that. See, I was doing well, and then this pirate picks up a rocket launcher and shoots it at me. Obviously I duck, and the rocket nails this pillar behind me, blows it to shit and back. Turns out the thing was a _load-bearing_ pillar. It dropped…” He paused, counting on his fingers, then finished, “six stories worth of concrete and rebar on me.”

One of the recruits gasped like they were trying to suck down their mask, eyes wider than drive cores. “How did you survive?”

Zaemin just shrugged. “Luck and stubbornness, my friend.” He cracked a big, dumb grin and motioned to his eye. “Had a piece of rebar through my eye socket, punched clean out the back of my head. Half my arm was paste, and half the leg, too. Whole right side of my body was crushed—I think they said they had to replace, uh,” he started counting out on his fingers, “a good half of my skull, a couple cervical vertebrae, the whole right shoulder and half my ribs, my entire pelvis, one lung, I think my liver, a good portion of the intestinal tract on that side, and I’m pretty sure they fucked up pretty much everything in the groin area ’cuz they didn’t know what any of it was to fix it.”

Madelivio coughed quietly, mandibles wiggling in some expression Gerrel couldn’t quite recognize, and asked, “So, what about the rest of the leg?”

“Oh, this?” Zaemin knocked on his thigh and grinned. “Grenade.”

Savval snorted, and Gerrel gave the recruits a huge, shit-eating grin. “Moral of the story, kids: watch the fuck out for grenades.”

“Anyway,” Zaemin continued, “they wound up having to replace a good half my brain with cybernetic shit, too. I actually lost pretty much all my memory, too—Maekso said they had to reintroduce me to my mom and everything, and I had to totally relearn how to speak Khelish with the aid of language dictionaries hard-coded in with the cybernetics.” He paused, making an odd face, then said, “I don’t actually know if I’m the same person as I was when I was a kid, really. Probably not. I mean, I could just be speaking Seaonan and you might just be hearing it through the translator. Don’t think so, though. I can’t do hypersonics.”

_“What?”_

“Take xenobiology, it’s an adventure.” Madelivio snorted and muttered something under his breath, and Zaemin just grinned again. “Anyway, so, long story short, I think I’m like, I dunno, 40-some percent cybernetic now and I’m both a senior officer _and_ a former Admiral, so if you got a problem with cyborgs, the marines—hell, the Fleet in general, honestly—probably ain’t the place for you.”

The troublesome recruit appeared to have shorted out their brain, because they were just stammering at this point. Xala glanced at Gerrel, then got up and glided over to them, placed a hand on their shoulder, and calmly said, “You seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot with everyone in this room. I suggest you leave.”

And then the kid just up and fainted dead away.

Gerrel blinked slowly, then hopped off the counter and wandered over to Xala, nudging the kid with his foot. “If I kick ’em in the spleen, d’y’think Mum would find out?”

“Do you even know where the spleen is?”

“No, but if I keep kicking all over, I’ll find it eventually.”

_“Han.”_

“Fine, fine. Somebody call medical, get the ass a nice little bed in the fright ward. Todor, tell Vasya, no mercy on this one.”

Todor nodded, and Gerrel noticed Zaemin stiffen suddenly. “What?”

“It just occurred to me,” Zaemin said slowly. “If _you’re_ here, and _Xala’s_ here, and _Hazir’s_ here, and Ashalla’s off ancestors-know-where… Guys, _who’s running the ship?”_

Gerrel felt the gears in his head grind to a halt, then looked at Xala, crossing his arms. “Xala, I think it’s high time we get back to the bridge, don’t you?”

Xala nodded. “They’ve had a long enough break without us.”

“Yeah, before Mum calls. Come on, everybody scatter, and remember!" He gave a big, dopey grin. "Next week is Leg Day.”

* * *

**TO:** F. Adm. Shala’Raan vas Tonbay

 **FROM:** Dr. Aela’Den vas Tonbay

 **SUBJECT:** Progress Update, Thie’Haasn vas Tonbay

As we agreed upon, Thie’Haasn has been kept in near-solitary for the past week, with scheduled visits from friends and family. He seems to have calmed some, but I do not think he is yet ready for return to duty, even the agreed-upon light paperwork. I will continue monitoring his progress and updating you as necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify the side bit immediately prior to Gerrel's story, Savval is trans. No confusion about this allowed. Thank you for your time.


	22. Don't Skip Leg Day, Kids

**Galactic Standard Day 1, Week 2, Month 5, Year 2910**

**(Late Mid Terran Year 2170 CE)**

Ashalla flipped through her stack of datapads, sighing. This would be easier if she had a definite deadline. “Oh, we need this done by this time on this day,” not a general “yo, we’ll give you a holler when we’re ready.” On a rational level, she knew it encouraged her to get everything done as fast as possible, but having a deadline meant she could pace herself accordingly. The salarians she’d worked for on Pilgrimage were _so_ much better about these things.

She drifted into the commons area and pulled up short, almost dropping her datapads. “Uh. Guys? What’s up?”

All the chairs, cushions, pillows, and blankets that usually adorned the commons area had been moved to one corner, haphazardly yet somehow meticulously arranged so they wouldn’t fall. In the middle of the room, several marines were lined up and doing… push-ups. Maybe half of them were doing it one-armed, and Nahza was doing it with Savval sitting on his back. Facing them, Axilus was also doing push-ups, but, in true turian fashion, was doing the much more complicated version, wherein he used one arm, pushed himself up hard enough that he could clap in-between, and came back down having switched which arm was holding him up.

_Turians._

Gerrel, who had been strolling around the gathered marines, glanced up at her and grinned. “Leg Day, Ashalla,” he said jovially, unfolding his arms to put his hands on his hips.

She blinked, then shook her head. “Ah. Right. How could I forget?”

She knew exactly how she could have forgotten. She was busy, too busy to keep track of dates beyond her deadlines, and didn’t have time to concern herself with the marines’ regular workout competitions. And considering “Leg Day,” as Gerrel’s own grandfather had cheerfully dubbed it decades ago, usually featured strenuous exercise and overexuberant marines, she didn’t particularly have any interest in it.

Anyway. She glanced back down, humming and flipping through her datapads. “Has anybody seen Rena’Kaddi? The _Rayya_ called, her parents want to talk to her about her Pilgrimage.”

Xala, sitting quietly at the end of the push-up row to supervise, absently brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I believe she and Shala’Ganu went to go find supplies."

Gerrel grunted. “Raz, that’s a lie and you know it.”

Xala simply gave a serene smile. “Yes, dear, but I doubt they’re doing much more than an awkward admission of feelings and first kiss. They’re still young and inexperienced.”

Gerrel considered, then shrugged. “That’s fair.” He grinned. “Young love, eh?”

"It’s adorable at that age." Xala rested his chin in one hand with a little sigh. “I would’ve thought Miss Ganu would be too shy to say anything while she’s still on the Fleet, she gets so skittish.”

“Says the man who waited until I was laid up with a broken leg and a cold before he said anything about liking me, no matter how many times I heard you sigh longingly after we finished talking.”

“That was different.”

Gerrel snorted, and Ashalla waved a hand. “Uh, guys? A little focus?”

She got a dismissive handwave for her efforts. “It’s fine, Ashalla.” With a glance at Axilus, Gerrel bellowed at the marines, “They’re only _getting their asses beat by a turian teenager!”_

One of the marines promptly gave up, letting their arms flop harmlessly to their sides as they hit the ground with a _whuff_ of air. Nahza, switching which arm was held behind his back, cheerfully chirped, “Not me!”

“Shut up, Nahza!”

Ashalla rolled her eyes. “Can I at least get a few signatures while I’m here? The sooner I get authorization for these, the smoother everything runs.”

Gerrel considered this, then let out an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose.”

She suppressed a groan and started going through her stack of datapads, handing him things as she went. “Okay, if you could sign at the bottom here, and on the third line on this one, and at the top here, and, oh, just anywhere on this…”

Gerrel grumbled but did as she asked, brow furrowing as he caught some of the words on the screen. “Why do you even _need_ third-age drell key shift ciphers… Oh, I didn’t know there’s a new DLC for that out… Five gallons of turian ice cream? _Really?_ Better be _sharing_ that…”

She forced herself not to smile. “Need-to-know basis, sir. Admiral Raan’s orders.”

It wasn’t a lie, not really. Raan _had_ told her to keep anything she was gathering for Thie under wraps. Gerrel chewed on this for a moment, then shrugged. “I can respect that. Anything else?”

“Just one more, sir.” She traded him the last datapad for the ones he’d already signed, then reached up to brush her hair out of her eyes. “I’ll run these back up to my station for processing, then my shift is over, so I’ll be back.”

Gerrel finished off his signature, then handed it back and flashed her a thumbs-up. “Good to hear.” He cracked a grin. “See if you can beat Xala in sit-ups.”

Xala snorted gently, and Ashalla felt the blood drain from her face. “Uh, I don’t think that’d be possible, sir.”

“You never know. Get lost, Shalen.”

* * *

In the short time it took Ashalla to run the datapads back to her station, get everything hooked up that needed to be, and head back to the commons area, the number of marines trying to beat Axilus in push-ups had dropped all the way to only three. Nahza was still going strong, despite Savval sitting on his back. Reegar, meanwhile, was only just starting to show fatigue, and Lila’Yaana was definitely struggling. Gerrel had apparently gotten tired of patrolling around and taken a seat next to Xala, one hand covering one of Xala’s.

She waved to the two officers as she walked in, then picked her way around the marines sprawled out from exhaustion on the floor until she could stand behind them, arms folded. “How many are they on?”

Gerrel shrugged. “Almost to six hundred, aren’t they?”

Xala hummed an affirmative. “I’m getting tired just watching.”

Gerrel shouldered him gently. “That’s ’cause you hate push-ups, mate.”

“So?”

Gerrel thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Iunno. Seemed relevant, I guess.”

“Fair enough. Ashalla, do you want to sit down?”

“I’m fine,” she said, shaking her head. “Where do they find the energy?”

“Well, you know the Reegar reputation,” Gerrel said with a shrug. “Marines, the lot of ’em. Probably a push-up gene in there somewhere. Yaana, if I remember right, was just determined to beat Khalfa, who said somethin’ derogatory about her being a woman, and he was the second to drop out, so mission accomplished. I think Madelivio’s working off lunch so he can have a mid-afternoon snack, and-”

“- and have you _seen_ Nahza shirtless?” Reegar called between puffs of breath.

Gerrel laughed, and Xala rolled his eyes. “Nahza’s just Nahza,” he concluded, reaching over to pat Gerrel’s shoulder as he tried to get ahold of himself. “Han, are you going to be okay?”

Gerrel waved a hand dismissively. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said, all but choking on his breath. “He’s got a point, though. Nahza, you sure you’re not overheating over there?”

Nahza snorted. “Nice try!”

“It was worth a shot.”

Ashalla rolled her eyes and glanced at Xala. “Sir, I’m surprised you’re not participating.”

“I did say he hates push-ups, didn’t I?” Gerrel asked.

Xala elbowed him gently. “Quiet, you,” he said, then looked up at Ashalla briefly. “I’m better at lifting, really.”

“Are you, now?”

Xala looked at Gerrel, and Gerrel heaved a sigh, getting to his feet. “Alright, alright,” he grumbled good-naturedly, offering Xala a hand to help him up. “Not too much, though, I get a headache.”

Xala smiled, then, bent down, and hauled Gerrel over his shoulders like a barbell. He took a moment to adjust his grip, then stood up straight, winked at Ashalla, and started doing squats.

He only did a couple, but by the time he set Gerrel down, Ashalla’s jaw was somewhere in the vicinity of her ankles, her arms unfolded to hang limply by her sides. “I- I- I thought that was a _joke!”_

“Surprise,” Gerrel said, dusting himself off. “He’s been doing that since we were in our twenties. Stronger than he looks, yeah?” He grinned. “Bet he could do you _and_ me. At the same time.”

Xala chuckled. “Sorry, Han, I don’t think I…” He trailed off, then slowly leaned in, squinting at Gerrel.

Gerrel’s grin froze on his face. “Uh… Xala? Is something wrong? You’re sorta worrying me here.”

Xala frowned and put his hands on either side of Gerrel’s face, murmuring, “Hold still.”

Gerrel’s eye twitched. “Xala, please tell me that’s the ‘I’m about to give you a big kiss’ face, and not the ‘you need to go see a doctor’ face that it looks like from this angle.”

Xala _hrmm_ ’ed. “No…” He squinted a little more, then his eyes went wide. “You have _gray hairs_ in your eyebrows.”

“I _what!?”_ Gerrel’s hands flew up so fast he almost smacked Xala in the face.

Xala shook his head, then said wryly, “If it’s any consolation, now you can’t tell the hairs from your face.”

Indeed, Gerrel’s face had gone ashen as he pulled up the mirror app on his omni-tool and inspected his eyebrows. “I can’t be going gray, I’m too _young_ to be going gray!”

Across the room, sitting at the counter, Zaemin howled with laughter. “Aw, c’mon, Han, everyone knows stress can make you go gray early, it’s no big deal!”

“It is too!”

As Gerrel panicked, Xala’s smile slowly died, and he shakily reached up and grabbed fistfuls of his own hair. “Keelah…”

Ashalla rolled her eyes, putting her hands on her hips. “What would your mother say about you losing it over a few gray hairs?”

“My _mother?”_ Gerrel paused in his inspection to level a finger at her. “My mother would have an _existential crisis_. If _I’m_ old enough to go gray, what’s that say about _her?”_

“Isn’t she totally silver?”

“Not entirely. She’s got some brown left up here-” He ran a finger along the top of his head, then down towards the base of his skull, “and back here. We tell her about _these_ , she probably loses _those_.”

They were distracted from the passage of time-inspired panic by Reegar suddenly dropping to his stomach with a wheeze. “I’m done,” he puffed, “can’t do no more.”

“Well, if he’s done,” Yaana said, immediately before dropping to her own stomach. She panted for a bit, then weakly raised a victorious fist. “Third place!”

Axilus raised his head to look at them, then chirped, “Second!” and popped to his feet for a brief second before plopping down to sit. His mandibles dropped and his jaws parted slightly, his tongue peeking out over the tips of his teeth as he panted. “My leg hurts.”

Nahza reached up to adjust Savval on his back, as she’d fallen asleep and was starting to fall off. Then he glanced around and grinned. “Great, then I can quit countin’ all quiet-like. Eight-twenty-one… Eight twenty-two…”

Axilus blinked, mouth closing as he thought. “Wait, so then…” His mandibles quirked up and he glanced at Ashalla. “Is it cool if I go call my dad? When I was little, he said he’d let me have his pistol when I could do seven-fifty pushups. I mean, it’s a bit outdated now, and he’s gotten a replacement, but it’s still a good gun, just a little beat-up, a nice little Bare-talon 34, from the Brawler line by Armax Arsenal, you know? And I just did eight-twenty or so, so…”

She shrugged. “Go ahead, there’s nothing important going on that needs the comms. Just try not to clog up the lines, and if you can’t get him at home or on omni-tool, just leave a message, yeah? No need to waste the day trying to get ahold of him.”

“Sure. Thanks, Ashalla.” He bobbed his head respectfully, then pushed himself to his feet and limped out of the room, his bad leg dragging behind him.

Yaana and Reegar watched him go, then glanced at each other before turning back to the officers. “So, now he’s gone,” Yaana said, “anybody heard anything about Haasn?”

Ashalla tensed for a fraction of a second, then folded her arms across her chest. “He’s in good hands,” she said. “Dr. Den said he’s been showing some progress, she just wants to keep him under surveillance until she’s absolutely certain he’s fit for active duty again.”

Yaana’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Is he talking again, do you know?”

She shook her head. “If he is, nobody’s told me, and frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they hadn’t. I’m not a doctor. They’ll tell us how he is when they want us to know.”

Off to her side, Gerrel coughed into his fist. “Well, lovely chat and all, but I should get going. Mum wants to talk to me. I probably forgot to file something. Xala, you’re in charge.”

Xala blinked and looked at him. “You’re sure?”

“I’ll be fine. Mum said my… _father,”_ he sneered and spat out the word, “is on another ship for today, so no risk of running into him. I’ll comm you when I get to the _Tonbay_ , yeah?”

Xala hesitated, then sighed and nodded. “Of course. We’ll try not to burn the place down.”

* * *

Stopping by the _Tonbay_ in the middle of the night wasn’t exactly Ashalla’s idea of fun, but she comforted herself with the knowledge that once she dropped off her last stack of datapads, she could go back to her cubicle and sleep for a day. Gerrel was a good captain, always gave her the next day off when she spent one working herself to the bone. He’d let her sleep in if she so chose.

As the last stack had to go to Admiral Raan herself, Ashalla decided to take a detour and drop by Thie’Haasn’s room in the psych ward. There was no harm in checking in on him, after all, and at this point in the cycle he was probably passed out. Dr. Den had given her the go-ahead to start giving him some (very) light paperwork the day before, but given how he’d been when she’d handed him a few datapads, she doubted he was done quite yet.

Rounding a corner, she almost ran smack into Gerrel and Xala, pulling up short just before she collided with Xala’s arm. “Oh- _keelah_ , guys, would it kill you to-”

“Shhh,” Xala murmured, holding up a finger to silence her. He and Gerrel were standing outside Haasn’s room, watching through the window. Xala, whom Gerrel had summoned to the _Tonbay_ a couple hours previous, was standing with his arms loosely wrapped around his husband’s waist from behind, chin resting on top of his head. “Please be quiet, Ashalla,” he murmured, blinking slowly.

She frowned, then cautiously approached, peering in through the window to see what was apparently so important to be left undisturbed. When the image before her processed, she gave a little gasp, eyes widening slightly.

Thie was sleeping peacefully, like she’d thought he would be, but he wasn’t alone. Axilus had apparently dropped in for a visit at some point, and was curled around Thie, leaned back in the corner and arms loosely holding Thie against his chest. His mandibles were slack, his head tucked into his cowl, and his eyes contentedly closed. As near as she could tell, his and Thie’s chests rose and fell in almost perfect sync, put off just slightly by the sheer size difference.

She paused, trying to think of what to say, then settled on a simple, _“Aww.”_

Out of the corner of her eye, Gerrel smiled slightly. “Dropped by after we got done talking to Mum. Found ’em like this.”

That jogged her memory slightly. “What did your mom want to talk about, anyway?”

He snorted quietly. “Wanted to tell me she’s finally filing for divorce. ’bout damn time, you ask me.”

She blinked and turned to look at him fully. “She what?”

He didn’t look at her, just hummed and nodded. “She’d just gotten the paperwork when she called me. Wanted to tell me in person.”

“Why now?”

He heaved a sigh. “According to her, the whole mess with Haasn got her thinking about _my_ Pilgrimage, and all the shit _that_ dragged up.” Deep breath. “ _Apparently_ , whenever I’d call her in a panic on Pilgrimage, the dick would talk shit about me. Add that to how he’s always been about everything, and then thinking about Haasn and _his_ childhood, and I guess she finally decided she valued _my_ love over _his_. Something about how she’d had plenty of time without him before, but I’d never known a world without her. It was really sappy and heart-warming, I guess.”

Ashalla swallowed a lump in her throat. “Aw. Your mom loves you.”

“I guess she does.” Gerrel’s voice was carefully dismissive, but she saw the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips.

She puffed out a sigh and folded her arms. “Good for her, I mean. He was always kind of a dick, wasn’t he?”

Gerrel shrugged. “He was all smiles for _her_. Just didn’t like _me_. He was real careful around her, ’cause she loved me to bits and wouldn’t hear a word against me, but the older _I_ got, the more fearless _he_ got. I think she convinced herself it was just standard parent-child infighting, so she wouldn’t have to risk getting caught in the middle. Can’t blame her, I mean, we got pretty nasty. She was there for me when it counted, at least, as dumb as that sounds.”

She nodded in understanding. “So what happens next?”

“She gets the shithead to fill out his half of the paperwork and kicks his ass out. Don’t really care much, beyond that.”

“And I’m guessing you’re not torn up about your parents splitting at all?”

“I’m more upset they didn’t do it sooner.”

That seemed fair, given what Ashalla knew of Gerrel’s father. She cast another glance back at the sleeping Axilus and Thie, then sighed quietly. “I have some stuff to give to Admiral Raan, then I’m headed back to the _Neema_ to pass out. See you at the shuttle?”

Gerrel shifted so he could look at Xala, then nodded to her. “Sure.”

“Thanks.” She hated having to take the shuttles alone. It was just so _awkward_ , especially this time of night. The Fleet technically didn’t even have a “night,” just three cycles of six hours that comprised everyone’s shifts- one shift for work, one for free time, and one for sleep- and staggered so only a third of the population were supposed to be sleeping at once. But still. Most of the people she knew had sleep shift right now, so it was as good as night.

Just before wandering away, she cast one last look into the room, swallowing a lump in her throat when she saw Thie had moved in his sleep so his head rested gently against Axilus’s.


	23. Meanwhile, Back with the Plot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Text _«like this»_ denotes sign language.

**Galactic Standard Day 4, Week 3, Month 5, Year 2910**

**(Late Mid Terran Year 2170 CE)**

_Thie couldn’t breathe._

_His vision was hazy, the hall before him blurring in and out of sight, prickles of black creeping up at the corners with every slow, dragging breath. Something in his chest ached and blood and other things he couldn’t name bubbled at the back of his throat, distracting him from the trickles of blood rolling into his eyes from the cuts on his face. He couldn’t feel his leg, or his arm, either, just faint flashes of discomfort as the batarians dragging him along agitated the wounds. Distant booms like a krogan’s walk echoed in his ears, or maybe he was just hearing things, hearing the ghost of the gunshots that had filled the air at the colony when they—_

_They spoke in a closed dialect, his captors, murmured between the two of them as they walked along, dragging their prisoner between them. Every so often, one would bark at him to keep moving, as though he were capable of walking by his own power. The one on his left gave a cold laugh that sent shivers down Thie’s spine and said something, and the one on his right said something too, and they both chuckled like they’d been in on the funniest joke in the galaxy, like it all was—_

_He could feel the unfiltered air ghosting against his cheeks, each breath he sucked in a promise of slow, painful death. If he focused, he could feel the ill growing in his lungs, his blood, bubbling beneath the surface of each of his wounds. The breaks in his leg burned and he knew, he knew he was going to—_

_The booms were gunshots. Three dead humans lay on the floor in a shared pool of red. The batarian with the wings pulled the trigger and another one joined them and Tarvok, his name was Tarvok, and they dragged him to him and he put the gun against Thie’s forehead and he—_

_—watched as Kel fell instead, shattered visor, too much red, too much, and the gun was in his hand the scent of burning grass and scorched metal filled his senses the throbbing behind his eyes as he’d taken the gun he’d aimed he’d pulled the trigger and Kel fell and Kel died and it was his fault and he—_

_—woke—_

—up.

Thie jolted upright with a strangled cry, eyes burning, throat aching, with one hand to his head and the other his chest, fighting back the bile rising in his throat and the cry building in his lungs. His cheeks were wet, tears crusted to his eyelashes and his skin like the blood when he the blood when the blood the _blood_ —

He pitched forward, hands tangling in his hair and _pulling_ and he didn’t realize he was screaming until Axilus grabbed him and held him close and pried his hands away, whispering in a language Thie couldn’t understand until the screams faded into sobs. The turian didn’t budge, letting Thie bury his face in his cowl and cry, gently running a hand along his back and soothing him the way he remembered Sephira had.

Once his cries had mostly subsided into dry heaves, Axilus tilted his head against Thie’s and murmured, “It’ll be okay, Thie. I’m here.”

The medics didn’t come in like they had the first time and the time after that. They left Axilus to take care of Thie and called the admiral instead, because he was her patient, and they called Aela’Den too, because she was his doctor, and they left the two curled in the floor too because they knew better, too.

After a few more minutes, Axilus looked to the glass and inclined his chin in an invitation. The two doctors quietly filed in, arranging themselves in the chairs they’d left flanking the doorway and sitting silently for a few moments while Axilus caught Thie’s attention and slowly coaxed him into looking to the doctors.

Admiral Raan shifted in her seat, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. “Thie’Haasn,” she began, voice soft and warm as velour, “how are you feeling?”

Thie sniffled and buried his face back in Axilus’s cowl. Ax grunted, reaching a hand up to run his talons through Thie’s hair in the comforting way he’d learned to over the years. “C’mon, Thie, you gotta talk, okay? They want you to get better, too,” he murmured into Thie’s temple, one mandible gently nuzzling against his forehead. “It’ll be okay, I promise. I’m here, and I’ll always be here.”

A moment or two passed. Then Thie raised his head, eyes still wet and rimmed with angry red-violet, and took a deep, shuddering breath. Still, all he could manage was a weak, “Bad.”

Raan _mmm_ ed, her cheek gaining a dimple as she sucked it in. “Can you describe your nightmare to me, please?”

Ax automatically tightened his arms around Thie’s body, resting his frontal plate in the nook between Thie’s head and shoulder and quietly thrumming with calming subvocals. Thankfully, Thie’s pulse slowed again, and some color returned to his skin. “No.”

“Why not?”

Thie shook his head, eyes bigger than a krogan’s maw. “I can’t.”

“But why can’t you?” Aela’Den prompted, looking worried.

“I _can’t._ ”

“I see.” Raan exchanged a look with Aela, then looked to Axilus with a diplomatic nod. “Axilus, I believe Han—Admiral Gerrel—asked for you for an assignment soon. I understand that this is a terrible time, but he made certain to emphasize his urgent need of a biotic for this mission to me in his call.” Then, in a much more gentle tone, “We’ll take care of Thie. He’ll be all right, I promise you.”

* * *

Axilus turned his father’s old pistol over in his hands, running a gloved talon over the nicks and scratches in the metal. His father, as a rule, took almost religious care of his weapons, and the old Brawler was no different. If Axilus squinted, he could just barely make out streaks where the cleaning cloth had run over the barrel.

He dimly remembered his father showing him how to clean a gun when he was four or so. He’d been clumsy and uncoordinated, and he was pretty sure his father had just been humoring him so he could feel helpful, but he’d been assured that it would come with time, just be patient, and never, ever, _ever_ do weapons cleaning on your mother’s favorite tablecloth, the one with little flowers around the edge, it was a gift from her grandmother and she’ll kill you if you get stains on it.

He ran the pad of one finger along the edge of the barrel, straining to remember his father’s almost poetic explanation of why proper cleaning and maintenance was so important. _“An unclean gun can be disastrous under the right circumstances, Axi,”_ he’d said. _“You take care of your gun, your gun will take care of you.”_

“Oi, Maddi!”

Axilus jumped, startled, and almost dropped the Brawler. He looked back up to see Lila frowning at him from across the shuttle. “You alright there, Maddi? Ya’ve been kinda quiet.”

He blinked, then shook his head, holstering the gun and loosely folding his hands in front of him. “Just thinking. I’m fine.”

She seemed to consider this, then nodded once and went back to playing with her omni-tool. Axilus sighed to himself and leaned against the wall next to him, watching the target planet approach. Supposedly, they were just doing a scavenging run today; Patrol had found an abandoned junkyard, and they were going in to see what they could find. They mainly needed a biotic for heavy lifting, given most shuttles, even ones dumped in a scrapheap, were a bit too much for a gaggle of marines to lift without trouble.

On a rational level, he knew it was just another mission. But on a deeper, more emotional one, something felt… _wrong_. There were no subvocals roiling in the air around him, no sharp clangs as talons knocked against metal, no harsh caws of tense laughter. The voices in the shuttle were too soft and melodic, the comforting scents of plate and blood and breath replaced by the cool, sterile ones of fabric and metal and plastic. The approaching planet was almost frightening in its unfamiliarity; he knew every colony world in the empire, as mandated by his superiors, but this was far, far, much too far from any of those.

The homesickness that had nestled in his chest since he’d left home for basic training sang its somber chords through his nervous system, weaving an aching, painful song that permeated his every cell and settled over him like a blanket. Even with the Hierarchy, he had still been in familiar space, surrounded by familiar bodies and listening to familiar heartsong. Here, nothing was right, and he’d never felt more lost.

He chose not to dwell on what it meant that he hadn’t noticed the differences until Thie was gone.

Shifting so he was leaning a bit more comfortably, he closed his eyes, muffling a yawn. They still had a bit before they reached the drop point. Just enough time for a short little nap…

He was woken with a jolt by a shove to his shoulder. “Oi, come on, Maddi! Sleepin’ won’t get nothin’ done!” Lila told him, voice ringing through his skull. He shook his head slightly and picked up his head, blinking groggily, then huffed and pushed himself to his feet. She nodded, then darted out of the shuttle.

With a sigh, he followed, pulling his Phaeston off his back with a little snort. The junkyard, as most of its kind were, wasn’t much to look at. Parts of it he even downright averted his eyes, choosing to pretend the piles of rusting metal and leaking fluids that cast eerie shadows in the late-afternoon sun weren’t even there. Some of the squad had already started poking around; Gerrel was directing Han’Seyya and some kid called Prazza from the ground while they climbed a precarious pile of parts.

He jumped at a light cough beside him, and turned to see Del and Tazi standing nearby. Tazi folded her arms across her chest and cocked one hip out, dryly asking, “Doing alright there, bird boy?”

He flicked a mandible and shook his head. “I’m fine. Just a little… It’s weird, being on a mission without Thie, is all.”

Tazi nodded. “Gotcha. Want to hang with us? Admiral said to take groups of three or four.”

He bobbed his head. “If you don’t mind.”

Del shook his head, and Tazi shrugged. “I’m cool if he is. Come on, Admiral said to stay within a five-klick radius.”

They set off, passing by Savval holding Nahza by his ankles as he dug around in a rusted-out skycar through the sunroof. The whole place reeked of fuel, rust, and rot, so Axilus’s nose wasn’t much help, and he kept getting thrown off by the differences in footfalls between Thie and the two quarians running with him now. Tazi’s were too light and quick, Del’s too heavy. In a proper hunt, he knew, knowing your pack’s footfalls could mean the difference between tracking prey and tracking a friend, and no matter how much he told himself otherwise, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was very much out of place.

 _You shouldn’t be here_ , his beating pulse in his neck told him as he pushed and prodded at a trailer door that had gotten stuck. _This is not where you belong_.

 _Shut up_ , he told it as he pried his talons into a small gap and ripped the door free.

“Hey, Haasn!” came a call from below, and Axilus jumped, instinctively looking to his side to watch Thie. A moment too late, he remembered, and despondently turned his head back to the trailer as Del and Tazi went to respond.

It was stupid. He knew that. It was just a mission, Thie was okay, he’d be back in action in a couple weeks. This was nothing. He was just being stupid, and sentimental, and overly attached…

No, no, wasn’t it normal to be attached to your pack? And he’d called Thie pack before. He wasn’t even sure if he had the words to describe the pack feeling, it was just something you _knew_ , deep in the matrix of your cowl. Thie was definitely pack, yes. It was definitely fine to miss your pack.

Fuck, he was so confused.

He gnawed on one mandible, then sighed and shook his head. “Hey, guys?”

Del and Tazi glanced up, and he asked, “Mind if I make a call?”

They looked at each other, then shook their heads. “Go ahead,” Tazi said.

He nodded, then pulled up his omni-tool and plugged in a few comm codes: first long-distance comm access, then a number he knew by heart.

There was a dial tone as the signal went out, then a ring. Two. Three.

_“Ax!”_

He winced as audio feedback nearly blew his speakers. “Hey, Freiya,” he said dryly, hooking up the comm to the hands-free comm device patched onto the skin between his two lowest fringe horns. “Miss me?”

He could practically hear her bouncing in her seat. “Dude, if you were here right now, I’d punch you. Where’ve you _been?_ Why haven’t you _called?_ _Demienn!_ Ax is calling, get your ass in here!”

His heart lifted slightly as he listened, reminded of a time when they were small and Freiya, as the eldest and the natural pack leader, had taken it on herself to fuss over him and the twins like a spare mother. “Demienn’s with you? Where are you guys?”

“Well, see, Demienn petitioned for exemption from mandatory due to psychological stress, and the doc back on the _Anchrivos_ vouched for him, so he got out scot-free.”

“Uh… That doesn’t answer my question. Are you guys at home?”

“In a sense.”

“Freiya…”

“Okay, okay, we’re at _your_ place.”

_“Why?”_

“She’s on disciplinary leave,” Demienn piped up, and was quickly followed by a sharp thwack. _“Ow!”_

“You didn’t have to go and tell him _that!”_ Freiya complained.

Axilus shook his head, climbing down from the pile he’d been standing on to help Del wedge open a rusty door. “Freiya, what happened?”

She huffed. “It was nothing _big_. Like, I _really_ think they were overreacting, it _totally_ didn’t merit disciplinary leave. Like, community service, maybe. I could do that. That’s fair. But this is, like, _soooo_ unfair.”

“She punched a guy in the dick.”

_“Freiya!”_

“You know what, I take it back, I am _too_ telling your mom you paid the kid down the hall to do the dishes yesterday.” She grumbled, then huffed. “Look, it was like this. This dude Irvidus was hitting on me, and like, he’s a massive jerk? Like, he’s really mean to recruits and stuff. I mean, if he wasn’t a jerk, I’d’ve been all for it, cause he was kinda hot? Not, like, _Fornax_ hot, or even ‘could make a decent amount of money modeling’ hot, but _kinda_ hot. But he’s an ass, so I told him I was spoken for. And he wasn’t taking no for an answer, sooooo I beat him up.”

“And got yourself put on disciplinary leave.”

“Well, I guess maybe I might have broken his crest a little bit?”

Axilus groaned. “No wonder you and my mom get along so well.”

“Yeah, she gave me a high-three when she found out.”

Axilus rolled his eyes and grunted as he and Del got the door open, moving to stand so it would stay that way while Tazi crawled in to see what she could find. “Y’know, you still haven’t explained why you’re at _my_ place and not _yours_.”

“Well, y’see, my mom’s been on the night shift a lot, so she’s asleep right now, and my dad just got promoted, so he’s out on deployment. Him and Mom and your parents got, like, _really_ drunk to celebrate when we got the news. And then I spent the night at your place, ’cause I wouldn’t try to sleep in the same apartment as my parents having sex when they’re too drunk to try to stay quiet if you _paid_ me.”

He shuddered. “So now you’re just hanging at my place?”

“Yeah, pretty much. It’s weird and lonely at home, with Mom asleep all day. And, well, you know how Demienn’s mom is nowadays…”

The comm went quiet, and Freiya added brusquely, “So he’s been hanging with me while I’m here, and then- Oh! Right! Tol’s here!”

Axilus’s heart skipped a bit. “Tollak?”

“No, Tolvore, Master of the Legions of the Undead. Of course Tollak, dumbass. Medical leave again.”

Now his heart jumped into his throat. “Is he okay? What happened?”

He could practically hear Freiya rolling her eyes. “He’s fine, Ax. Just gets tired easy. I think your mom likes it better when he’s here, he takes care of her window boxes for her and brings her flowers from the park. Hold on, one sec.”

He jumped nearly half his own height as Freiya bellowed his brother’s name, landing with a clatter as spare parts were dislodged from his sudden movement. “Spirits! Dammit, Freiya!” He hastily gestured to Tazi and Del, who were giving him alarmed looks, to let them know he was alright.

“Sorry,” she said, very obviously not sorry at all.

From somewhere on the other end, there was loud cursing, followed by a complaint Axilus couldn’t quite make out. “Tollak?” he called, hoping he didn’t look too stupid to the nearby quarians.

There was a pause, then a distant and almost frantic, “Axi?”

He heard a small ruckus, then his brother’s voice filtered through the comm. “Axilus? Axi, are you alright? You haven’t called me and Mom said you’re fine but she wouldn’t tell me anything just something happened with Blue and I didn’t know when would be a good time to call and you were never good at checking your messages and I wasn’t sure if Mom was just trying to make me feel better and she said not to worry but I can’t help it and now there’s been an incident at the batarian embassy and it could be bad and-”

“Tol, Tol, it’s okay, calm down!” Axilus said quickly. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? You’re not lying to me?”

He snorted. “When have I ever lied to you?”

“Remember that time when I was ten and we were spending the summer at Marpat and Marmat’s, and you said Marpat hadn’t saved any dessert for me?”

“I was _four_ , dude. How do you even _remember_ that?”

“I _really_ wanted that pie.”

Axilus rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Look, I promise I’m okay, yeah? I’m not hurt or anything, Mom’s telling the truth.”

Tollak _hrmm_ ed, and Freiya cut in, “Wait, what about Haasn? What did your mom say?”

Axilus hesitated, looking over to where Tazi was comforting Del about something and making a note to ask later before moving to get off the pile of parts for better footing. “Thie’s, uh… Thie’s fine,” he hedged. “He’s not hurt. Or, like, dead.”

“Then why did your mom say anything?” she demanded.

He chewed his mandible. “Well, um… There was an accident,” he said quietly. “Somebody died on a mission. A friend. And Thie, uh… Thie didn’t take it well.”

He heard three sharp intakes of breath, followed by sympathetic murmuring. “How bad?” Demienn asked quietly.

Axilus closed his eyes. “He’s been in psych for three weeks. He didn’t even talk for the first few days.”

Understanding murmurs. “Is he doing better, at least?” Freiya ventured.

“A little, I guess. He’s been helping comms with paperwork, and he’s been spending a lot of time with the doctors. Yesterday they said they’d ask around and get a console for him so he can play video games instead of just watching the same four shitty asari soap operas. He says they play the same episode every day for a week, just to pad out the story arc runtime.”

Tollak grumbled something that sounded like agreement, and Axilus figured he probably knew at least one story arc by heart, with how frequently he’d had to stay home from school as a sickly, mentally disabled kid. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “I don’t know, man. He’s been having these bad nightmares, and he won’t really tell me anything about them, but he talks in his sleep, and it seems to be the same thing each time. Admiral Raan and Dr. Den are trying to help, but there’s only so much they can do, y’know? And he’s still really quiet. I don’t know, _ademenos_ , I’m worried.”

“Give him time,” Demienn said gently. “It was recent, right? You don’t get over that stuff right away.”

“I know, but…” He heaved a sigh, bigger than the last one. “He was making so much _progress_ before, y’know? He was getting _better_. Then Zahiya died, and… And everything just kinda got reset. Worse, even.”

“One step forward, two steps back,” Demienn murmured. “It was like that for me, too.”

The call went quiet, and for a moment Axilus listened to the boom of grenades and the shriek of turian death cries. He squeezed his eyes shut against the memory, then shook his head fiercely. “Yeah,” he said, trying to hide the quake he could hear in his own voice, “yeah, I know.”

“Ax, do you want me to call Mom?” Tollak asked cautiously. “Or Aunt Meana? I think they might be able to help a bit better than us.”

Axilus started to reply, then snapped his jaws shut as a call rang across the yard. “Oi, Madelivio!” Savval was calling, hands cupped around her mouth. “We could use a little help over here!”

“Be there in a minute! Sorry, guys, I gotta go, but I’ll call you back later, okay?”

Freiya gave a concerned rumble, then sighed. “Sure, Ax. Keep in touch.”

“I will. Call you when I get back to the ship, okay?”

He hung up, then went trotting over to Savval and the others. “Sorry.”

“Who were you talking to?” Tazi asked, tilting her head.

“Pack.” After taking a moment to read the puzzled expressions the quarians were giving him, he clarified, “Couple childhood friends and my brother.”

“Ah.” She nodded, then turned back to the truck cab they’d been trying to pry open. “Anyway, think you can use your fancy biotics to open this thing up for us?”

* * *

Thie glanced up from the paperwork Ashalla had given him at a knock on the door. “Come in.”

The door slid open with a pleasant chirp, and Thie raised his eyebrows as his brother walked in. “Oh, hey, Del. I was expecting Ax.”

His brother fidgeted awkwardly, then, before Thie was fully aware of what was going on, rushed forward and pulled him into a tight hug. He made a slight choking noise, then squirmed a bit in Del’s grasp, noting with vague discomfort that his feet were no longer touching the floor. “Dude, what’s up?”

Del made a noise like a very deep-voiced pyjak. “Are you okay?”

Thie stiffened. “Oh, you’re talking, not good. What happened?”

Del let out a choked sob, and Thie wriggled his arm until he was free to awkwardly pat him on the back. “Del, man, come on, it’s okay, what’s wrong?”

With a very loud and very noisy sniffle, Del set him down, then just sort of… fell over, sitting heavily in a pile of blankets and pillows Axilus used as a nest when he visited. After a moment of debating what to do, Thie went and sat next to him. “C’mon, don’t inhale your face on me.”

Del managed a wibbly little smile, and Thie cracked an encouraging grin. “It’s okay, man, what’s wrong?”

After a moment, Del started to hesitantly, shakily sign at him. _«Turian said what happened. Forgot I was there.»_

Thie processed this, then groaned. _“Axilus…”_

Del hugged his knees to his chest, and Thie heard the tiniest of whimpers. “You didn’t tell me.”

Thie hesitated, then heaved a sigh. “I didn’t want you to worry, Del. I thought you’d get upset, and you don’t need to be worrying about me. I’m fine.”

_«Not what turian said.»_

Thie sighed again. “Axilus is prone to exaggeration. And he’s not very smart. I’m fine, I promise. Here, see? I’ve been working on paperwork for Ashalla.”

Del gave him a disbelieving look, and he suppressed yet another sigh. “It’s nothing bad, Del. Ashalla’s just having me go through comm records and make sure everything’s cool. I was waiting for her to come back, actually, there’s something weird in here that’s not matching up. Like a bug I found a while back. She might have to fix it again.”

Del still looked worried, so he bit the inside of his cheek. “Would it make you feel better if you stayed the night to see for yourself?”

He nodded quickly, and Thie forced a little smile. “I’ll ask the admiral next time she drops by. Until then, you can help me go through the rest of this stuff, cool?”

_«Cool.»_


	24. Guess Who's Neurotypical? Trick Question, Nobody Is

Thie groaned and let his head thud back against the wall. “This is bullshit.”

“It is a hundred and nine-percent not my fault you suck,” Valern told him matter-of-factly, and Thie could picture the eye-roll.

“No, it’s a hundred and _eight_ -percent,” Thie retorted. “The other one percent is Eralan!”

Eralan didn’t miss a beat. “Get good, Haasn.”

While Valern let out a quiet wheeze of laughter, Thie scowled. Salarians and their shitty memes. “Well, if you were a better healer…”

“I’m an _excellent_ healer. The problem is that by the time my mana recharges enough to heal you again, you’re already dead.”

“Because you suck.”

“I haven’t played in a while, cut me some slack!”

The salarians considered this, then there was a small, grudging chorus of “yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

They lapsed into silence for a while, then an incessant beeping sprung up. “Oh, sorry,” Valern muttered. “I have to take this, give me a few minutes.”

There was a _click_ as his mic was muted, and Eralan sighed. “That’s been happening a lot lately.”

“Is something going on?” Thie asked.

“I’m almost tempted to say no more than usual, but I’m not sure. There’s been a big media fuss at the Tower lately, but right now they’re not cleared to say much of anything, so we’re in the dark until the Council decides otherwise.”

Thie frowned a little. “Any ideas?”

“Near as I can tell, the humans and batarians are at each other’s throats again. That’s it. They’ve been trying to get interviews with the different ambassadors, but Ambassador Udina’s being tight-lipped, and, well, you know how the Hegemony functions. Val might know more, but it’s a coin toss what he’d be allowed to say.”

“Should we bother asking?”

“Couldn’t hurt.”

Thie sighed and settled back against the wall. When the nurse had set up the game console for him, he’d been informed that, due to limited bandwidth on the Fleet, he’d be restricted to offline-only games most of the time, and only get to play _Galaxy of Fantasy_ about once a week or so. In the few hours he’d been playing, Valern had been in and out, apparently trying to juggle ten different people wanting to talk to him at once. Unfortunately for them, whoever wanted to talk almost invariably asked while they were in a dungeon, and there was no reasonable way for Valern to say “no” in his situation, so they usually ended up with Thie screaming as enemies centered on him. He’d been tempted to just call it quits, but given some anomalies that had popped up in Ashalla’s work for him, he didn’t really have anything better to do until he could ask her.

Valern’s mic clicked again, and the first thing they heard was a huge, vaguely-frustrated sigh. Stretching out his legs in front of him, Thie ventured, “What was that about?”

Valern grumbled, almost a growl. “The batarians are upset with the humans, and the _humans_ are upset with the _batarians_ , and they’re _both_ choosing to go through the _salarians_ as mediators, like _children_. You’d _think_ grown adults would have the sense to just _meet_ with each other and talk things out, but _no_ , that would be _weak_.” There was a sound like air rushing past the mic, and Thie assumed Valern was shaking his head. “This would be so much easier if the Alliance and Hegemony both weren’t so damn _proud_ that ‘mutually beneficial compromise’ isn’t even in their _vocabulary_.”

Thie almost hesitated to ask. Almost. “What’s the problem?”

Valern heaved another sigh. “It’s a long story. It even goes back before the humans had an embassy.”

Eralan coughed a little. “Territory rights?”

“Exactly.”

Thie blinked slowly. “Uh, guys? I’m not good at following the news.”

“Right, sorry.” Valern made a noise like he was trying to think, then continued, “Right, so, anyway, bunch of years ago, humans started colonizing the Atomic Traverse, or whatever it is they call it. Batarians call it the Naborrean Abyss, I think.”

“Salarians just call it ‘big fucking bunch of space, who the fuck cares,’” Eralan provided (un)helpfully.

“See, that’s what _I_ said, but the humans and batarians are all getting their toes twisted over it. Anyway, so humans start putting colonies down, but the batarians were there first, so they get mad and bring it to the Council. Officially. _Un_ officially, well, the Hegemony did the usual and started sending slavers and pirate gangs to ‘take care of’ the issue, because of course they did. Then the _humans_ got mad, and _they_ brought it to the Council. Both parties get a stern reprimand and a reminder that being on the Citadel means they’re expected to be able to work things out diplomatically _before_ things get bad enough that the Council has to be involved. Keep in mind, this was before the humans even had an embassy proper.”

“Did they work anything out?” Thie was pretty sure he knew the answer, but he figured it was only right to ask anyway.

Valern snorted. “For exactly one elcor heartbeat. Neither species wanted to be the first to back down. The Hegemony for obvious reasons, and I guess the Alliance thought they were being tough or something?”

Eralan snorted, and Thie muttered, “More like pretending they’re turian.”

“I know, right? So neither backs down, and shit keeps happening. Humans get an embassy, tensions keep rising, yours truly starts work at the Citadel, the wheel of life spins ever onward. Then, a few years ago, Ambassador Tilshik retires, and the Hegemony appoints a man by the name of Amahbeg Jacas to take his place. Jackass- no, sorry, _Jacas_ , the batarian language is hard on salarian tongues, Jacas decides to get more aggressive about the issue, and about a month ago, the humans and batarians ended up in a judiciary hearing before the full Council.”

Eralan hrmmed. “Aren’t there committees for this sort of thing? Colony rights and all that?”

“Yes, but Jacas was tired of dealing with the committee. They weren’t taking enough action, according to him. Still, he went through all the proper channels, and managed to appeal the case all the way up. Because of bureaucracy and how the system works, it took a couple years, but he got his hearing.”

“And?” Thie prompted.

Valern sucked in a breath. “You didn’t hear this from me, but the vote was _rigged_. Turians were on the batarians’ side, surprisingly. Species of strict constructionists. The two might not get along, but legally, the batarians were in the right, so they had turian support. We salarians prefer to evaluate on a case-by-case basis, and wait until the hearing proper to make our judgement.”

“And the asari?”

Valern sighed. “Appeasement policy. Give the humans what they want, they’ll settle down once they’re satisfied. I’ve heard it’s straining their relations with the batarians, but, well. The asari can be very… _determined_. If what I’ve heard is correct- and I’m inclined to believe it’s so, mind you, given I’ve heard it from both Councilors Sparatus and Rawan themselves- the vote was forced so that they were doing it specifically while Rawan would be too distracted with other things to vote any way the asari didn’t want her to. Ended up with a two-to-one for the humans.”

Thie and Eralan sucked in a simultaneous breath, and Valern said quietly, “Yeah. Guess how Jacas took it.”

The call went silent, and after a while, Eralan hesitantly said, “There _have_ been a lot of batarians passing through the clinic lately. Could it be related?”

“Maybe. Did they say where they were going?”

“Some didn’t. Some were vague, just said they were headed for Terminus.”

Valern paused, then said simply, “Omega.”

“What?”

“Given the state of things in the Hegemony right now, I’ll bet you anything they’re headed for Omega. It’s the safest place to be when you don’t want to be found. The Citadel is just a waypoint. On Omega, they’ll disappear. Stay away from the Hegemony. Maybe until things settle down, maybe forever. Either way, it’s not a good sign.”

“Do you think anything’s going to happen?” Eralan asked.

Valern heaved a sigh. “If we’re lucky, Jacas will appeal the case again. Gather evidence of a forced vote, or something.”

“And if we’re not?”

Valern paused. “Let’s just hope we are.” After a moment’s thought, he added, “Haasn, tell your people to be careful. Something’s going to happen, it’s in the air. The only question is when, what, and who’s going to get caught in the crossfire.”

Thie opened his mouth to respond, just as the doors slid open with a chipper _ding!_ and Ashalla walked in. “Alright, off.”

Thie jumped slightly. “What? Why?”

“You’re taking, like, half the Fleet’s bandwidth. It’s been three hours, and I need to update the rosters in a timely manner before Commander Stick-Up-His-Ass gets impatient and starts yelling. Come on, get.”

Thie furrowed his brow. “Did you just tell me to _‘get’?”_

She blinked slowly, then slapped her hand against her visor. _“Nahza…”_

There was some quiet snickering, then Valern chirped, “Later, Haasn,” and Thie’s screen promptly showed a dialogue box informing him he’d been kicked from the server.

He groaned and put his controller down. Salarians. Thought they were so funny…

Ashalla folded her arms. “Did you make any progress?”

He sighed and moved to grab the stack of datapads he’d been puzzling through. “Sort of. Mostly standard stuff, but there’s this thing…”

“What is it?” She sauntered over, tilting her head.

He dug through until he’d found the problem pad. “Here, look.” He turned it so she could see and gestured toward blank fields. “It’s like it’s been wiped, see? There’s nothing.”

Ashalla’s eyes narrowed behind her visor. “Again? Any idea who sent it?”

“No, but it’s flagged from an official channel, so I guess an admiral?”

Ashalla was quiet for a moment, then snatched it out of his hands. “I’ll take a look. There has to be something I can find in the cache, some residue or something that’ll tell us who wiped it and what was on it. Meantime, I’ve got something else for you.”

He stifled a groan. “What?”

“Annual physicals for everyone next week. Admiral Raan needs help sorting the files.” She reached into a bag on her back, digging around until she’d retrieved about an armful of datapads. “Pull anybody with a Heavy Fleet tag for us. Find your own, too, Den says you’ll be going back in time to say hi to the nice physicians.”

Thie accepted the datapads with a bewildered tilt of his head. “What exactly am I looking at?”

“Psych evals, mostly. They have to be filed alongside the physicals, which’ll be my job, as usual.” Ashalla pulled one more datapad from the bag and handed it over as well. “Here, transfer them onto this one for me. Try to keep them alphabetical. Everyone with the Heavy Fleet tag, but prioritize active marines and officers over grease monkeys and comm jockeys. You fighters are the ones who’ll be getting the evals first, not the rest of us. Admiral’ll be in a separate section, so don’t freak out when you can’t find him mixed in with the rest.”

He frowned. “What do psych reports have to do with physicals?”

She shrugged. “Psych reports have stuff on phobias, medications, treatment plans- stuff the docs need to be aware of before they go in and do something that could upset a patient. It’s for safety, mostly.”

“Oh. And why aren’t _you_ doing this?”

“I’d love to,” she deadpanned, “but I have to repair the _Neema’s_ main comm line again after I get the rosters updated. Shitheads at the top decided to play hacker with Zaemin’s neural net again and damaged something or other in central processing, so naturally it’s my job to fix it. Again.” She shrugged. “Besides, I always pass off the menial labor to interns. It’s a tradition. Welcome to the family, bud.”

She vanished back out the door before he could say anything, and he scowled. Grown-ups.

With a sigh, he spread out the pile and squinted at the text, trying to decipher the abbreviations and shorthand. As near as he could figure, the assessments had been alphabetized and color-coded by fleet, then sorted by occupation. Somewhere near the top of the list, he recognized the _Neema_ ’s name in blue, and figured with vague relief that that meant Heavy Fleet crew would be labeled as such. The datapad he was looking at seemed to be mostly engineers, so he tossed it aside and went hunting for the marines. Thankfully, those at least had rank listed before the name, so it was an easy find.

_Un_ thankfully, finding names was easily the most boring thing Ashalla had ever asked him to do.

Lin’Aarin vas _Brintar_. Vena’Abel vas _Tobrah_. Wari’Achen vas _Oritt_. Lia’Adas vas _Nuok_. Jan’Aelis vas _Rachwal_.

Hold up.

He selected Lia’s profile, then stared at it for a while. He almost wondered if he should ask first, or if this would get him in trouble.

Well, it was already selected. They couldn’t get mad at him if he “accidentally” hit the wrong key and opened the file, right?

> Lt. Lia’Adas vas _Nuok_ nar _Qwib-Qwib_ , age 27

Gosh darn it to heck, now how did that happen.

> Brief: Post-traumatic stress disorder, antisocial personality disorder, paranoia. Talk therapy recommended, but not necessary; socialization with peers sufficient and strongly encouraged. Recent evaluations suggest extremely strong protective instinct towards Son’Todor vas _Nuok_ and Kael’Todor nar _Nuok_ related to PTSD. Extended separation not recommended.

Huh. Well, that was new.

Still, it didn’t seem terribly important, so he closed the file rather than read further in. It did give him an idea, though, and as he started transferring files, he looked for more familiar names. It would at least be something to do to break up the monotony.

Or so he thought, until the next familiar name to pop up was _Del’Haasn vas_ Sani _nar_ Olyna, followed immediately by _Thie’Haasn vas_ Tonbay _nar_ Olyna.

Dammit.

He almost didn’t look. He’d put up with too much disgusting behavior towards Del as a kid, with adults treating him like a baby or picking on him just because he didn’t like to talk and sometimes acted a little odd. He didn’t want to see what the doctors said, yet at the same time he very much did. He almost went back up and read Cila’s instead, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Something just felt weird about reading his _stepmother’s_ psych report.

He compromised and skipped down a few names to _Lt. Kalon’Hazir vas Neema nar Zulaya [COMMAND]_. He’d go back in a bit.

> Brief: Obsessive-compulsive personality disorder. Regular talk therapy required. Gets obnoxious and rude when stressed.
> 
> Note: _Neema_ command has noted Lt. Hazir self-medicating with alcohol during periods of extreme duress. Bring up during next session?

And Thie had thought he just drank for the sake of it. Then again, he supposed he’d drink too if he had to work with the motley assortment of weirdos that made up _Neema_ command.

Bracing himself for the worst, he hesitantly scrolled back up to Del’s file and opened it. As the request processed, his brain ever-so-helpfully started compiling a list of worst-case scenarios. You know, like an asshole.

> Del’Haasn vas _Sani_ nar _Olyna_ , age 31
> 
> Brief: Autism. Primarily non-verbal; communicates using sign language or with assistance from Tazi’Zelaan vas _Sani_ , Cila’Faazha vas _Olyna_ , or Thie’Haasn vas _Tonbay_. Tends to worry. Recommend lots of rest and contact with loved ones for reassurance.
> 
> Note: Does not like being touched without permission.

Thie blinked. Well, that was… significantly better than expected. Not a rude word in sight, but also none of the weird, fawning admiration he’d seen some adults have that Del said felt like they were putting him up on a pedestal. It was just… neutral. _Like a doctor’s report should be_ , he thought with the barest hint of a smile. Flagging his own file to look at later, he moved on.

Scrolling through the names, the next familiar one came with a jolt of surprise. _Axilus Madelivio [vas_ Neema _nar Cipritine]_ looked up at him from the screen innocuously, decidedly out of place amongst all the quarian names yet nestled in like nothing was off. Curiosity piqued, he didn’t hesitate to open the file this time.

> Axilus Madelivio [vas _Neema_ nar Cipritine], age 21
> 
> CLEARANCE GRANTED BY TURIAN HIERARCHY
> 
> AUTH: GEN. OCTYRUS MADELIVIO
> 
> **Important: Beyond this page and some recent entries, all reports contained within this file are original documents written by turian doctors, left intact for medical integrity. The following summary and notes were written by Dr. Aela’Den vas _Tonbay_ for clarification for quarian doctors.**
> 
> Brief: Chronic insomnia, post-traumatic stress disorder. Unmedicated and untreated, but appears to be handling it well on his own. Displays fierce loyalty to the Empire, as expected of mandatory service-aged turians. Likely heavily indoctrinated by imperial propaganda due to being raised in the heart of turian space, but has yet to cause any conflicts regarding such, thanks to an unexpectedly peaceable and sometimes even submissive nature; more research into turian social dynamics may shed light on the reason for this. Appears very attached to Thie’Haasn vas _Tonbay_ , but gets defensive when inquired as to why. Also clings strongly to familial and social figures, particularly his mother and best friend (mate? Refused to answer).
> 
> Note: Madelivio displays a few traits of autism, but does not appear to have the condition himself. This appears to stem from growing up with an autistic elder brother, a possibility supported by scientific evidence and general learning by observation. (Look into this possibility re: Haasn brothers?)

Thie swallowed a lump in his throat. Somehow, Axilus getting defensive over his attachment to him gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling inside, though he wasn’t sure exactly why. Was that how it felt to be cared about? He sometimes got the sense from Cila or Del, but never quite as strong.

He lifted a finger to flick further into the file, but a nagging sense in the back of his mind reminded him he was doing a job, and this was kind of a breach of privacy anyway. With a reluctant sigh and a little shake of his head, he moved on.

More names, more files. Nahza had ADHD and a fear of needles. Savval was on sleeping pills to help with grief-induced insomnia, and had a note to make sure any treatments or medications prescribed wouldn’t react poorly with her hormone replacements. Ashalla actually _had_ insomnia, chronic like Axilus, along with, surprisingly enough, paranoid personality disorder. A doctor on the _Nuok_ was pretty sure Kael’Todor was developing a vocal tic, and recommended speech therapy before he started school.

Thie wasn’t even a little surprised to learn Son’Todor had severe anxiety and a doctor’s note to avoid extended separation from his family and social circle. He _was_ , on the other hand, _very_ surprised to see the notes on Xala’s file:

> Separation anxiety disorder to the degree displayed in Cmdr. Xala carries a risk of becoming unhealthy if left untreated. Regular psych evals are a requirement to keep the fixation monitored and in check, and socialization should be encouraged as much as possible in order for Aerazl to maintain alternatives to the preferred bond with Adml. Gerrel. The reappearance of Saar’Zaemin appears to have had a positive effect.

Well. In hindsight, it did make sense, he supposed.

Zaemin’s file, like Axilus’s, had a bolded note at the start, warning the reader it was a conglomerate of both quarian and salarian records, and the summary and treatment plan had been cobbled together from both. PTSD that was worse than he let on, with a tendency to evade serious discussion with humor, and a note that he surprisingly nonchalant about some unspecified condition, plus speculation that it might have something to do with hanging around salarians for several years. There were a lot of notes, actually, all of them angry. From what he could deduce, two doctors handling the case had been arguing back and forth about the authenticity of his cybernetics and exactly what to do about them, concluding with a final note from Raan telling them to quit squabbling and be the professionals she was pretty sure she’d put on the case.

The notes actually went on to a second page, and noting it was going into personality changes and other such things that made Thie a little squeamish, he clicked out and continued going through names.

There was nothing of note in Tazi’s file beyond a recommendation to keep her at least in radio contact with Del. Unfortunately for Thie, hers was the last familiar name, so he finished off the list and moved on. Like Ashalla had said, the admirals were on a separate datapad, again listed in alphabetical order. At this point it was more habit than curiosity to click on Gerrel’s name and start skimming.

Bipolar and ADHD, he knew that. Severe psychotic episodes with alarming regularity combatted by a heavy-duty cocktail of medication, he did not.

Still, nothing horribly alarming, so he moved on. Or, he would have, if he hadn’t accidentally clicked on Raalun instead of Raan and opened a distinctly blank file.

No age, no notes, not even a “nar such-and-such.” The section headers were there, but there were no words attached, just a whole lot of empty space.

A niggling voice in the back of his head warned him it meant something that it was Raalun’s file that was blank, but it took a minute or so for it to click that the wiped files he’d handed over to Ashalla earlier had been flagged as related to Raalun, too. Not even so much as a subject tagline.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, he swallowed and pulled up his omni-tool, praying Ashalla would know what to do.


	25. Remember That One Thing We Keep Pretending Isn't There? What Was It Called... Oh Yeah, Canon!

**Galactic Standard Day 2, Week 5, Month 5, Year 2910**

**(Late Mid Terran Year 2170 CE)**

Gerrel stifled a laugh as the door hissed open, though he couldn’t hide the broad, stupid grin on his face. “Zaemin, buddy, friend, pal,” he called, cupping a hand around his mouth, “I think you might’a forgot something, mate!”

“Fuck off.” Zaemin scowled at him, slowly making his way over to the nest of pillows and blankets Gerrel and a number of the other occupants of the _Neema_ sat sprawled out in. The crutches in his hands were much louder against the metal flooring than Gerrel had expected, and this time, he didn’t catch the laugh in time.

Xala lightly swatted his arm, though when Gerrel looked over he could see a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, too. “Han, that’s rude.”

“What?” Gerrel pretended to take offense anyway, waving an arm in Zaemin’s general direction. “Look at him! He ain’t got a bloody leg!”

A few of the marines scattered around him laughed, and Xala rolled his eyes. “Blame Special Projects,” Zaemin groused as he came up, pausing near the big, soft beanbag chair one of the recent recruits had brought back from their Pilgrimage. “Said they needed it for some shit or another. I need it more, I told ‘em, but you know how they are. Can one of you assholes help me sit down?”

“You sure you wanna do that? Knowing your luck, they’re gonna call you up soon as you sit down.”

“I’ll take my chances. These crutches make my arms hurt like a bitch.” Apparently giving up on waiting for assistance, Zaemin gingerly shifted weight to his one remaining leg, moved his crutches aside, and then simply collapsed onto the pillow with a _whumf_ and a groan. Whatever he said next disappeared into the padding and he didn’t bother raising his head to repeat it.

Gerrel propped his chin up with one hand, still grinning. “So they just up and ran off with your leg? Did you tell ‘em it was physical day and you kinda need it to get around, or is that where they gave you the crutches?”

Zaemin raised his head and grimaced at him. “The crutches were Rael’s idea. Raalun was totally fine with just leaving me there stuck in the medbay.”

“I’ll punch him for that later if you want.”

“Only if you shove Raalun out the airlock first.”

Gerrel snorted. He then abruptly fell out of his chair when instead of Xala reprimanding him, he heard a heavy sigh from over his shoulder followed by his mother saying, “You’re both officially grounded.”

_“Mom!”_ Gerrel whined from his new spot on the floor.

_“Han,”_ Raan whined back, planting her hands on her hips with a disappointed little furrow in her brow. She placed a hand on Xala’s shoulder and nodded to him and Zaemin. “Come on, up with you two. I’ll be handling you three hooligans myself.”

_“Admiral!”_ Xala whined.

_“Aerazl,”_ Raan whined back.

“I didn’t _do_ anything!” Xala looked positively wounded, eyes wide and lips arranged in one of those adorable little pouts Gerrel always just wanted to kiss right off of him. “I was being the _good_ one here!”

Raan just sighed and ruffled his hair, much to his dismay. “Yes, yes, I know, now come on. We don’t have all day.”

Zaemin groaned, the sound surprisingly clear despite the multiple layers of foam pellets and polyester covering his mouth and the rest of his face, and Raan rolled her eyes. “Han, would you help your legless wonder of a friend to his…” She paused, then awkwardly finished, “foot?”

Han laughed loud enough that he almost didn’t hear Zaemin’s agonized groan in response.

It was physical day on the _Neema,_ and nobody was happy about it. Med-techs—from the _Tonbay_ , mostly, but there were a few from Special Projects, which was where Zaemin had managed to lose his leg if Gerrel had any clue, and one or two wandering about from Civilian—had taken over the _Neema’s_ commons, transforming the room from a wide-open rec room into a distressingly clean, sterile work area filled with cots and benches and more medical equipment than Gerrel could ever hope to recognize without a picture book handy.

At one of the stations sat Nahza, his helmet, his sashes, and half his endosuit sitting on the cot behind him and a nurse in front of him, eyes locked on a small scanner in their hand. Nahza briefly made eye contact with Gerrel and pulled a rather amusing pained face, motioning _‘kill me’_ with one hand. To his great entertainment, the medic then proceeded to pull out a syringe, and Gerrel watched Nahza’s eyes go so wide, they almost didn’t fit on his face.

At the station beside Nahza was Ashalla, with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face as the medic with her lectured her, presumably for going without sleep for many more cycles than she was supposed to like she normally did. When the medic turned their back to pick up a medical chart, she made an obscene gesture at their back, lips moving in what Gerrel assumed to be silent mocking of whatever their lecture had been. The second they turned back around, Ashalla was back to pouting like nothing had even happened.

The only one who seemed even remotely content was Madelivio, lounging in a beanbag chair with his hands behind his head and Thie’Haasn sprawled across his lap reading a book. Being a turian surrounded by quarians apparently had one advantage, at least- nobody was bothering him about getting a physical done, at least not yet, so he was perfectly happy to sit around and watch the news. Granted, he hadn’t exactly been _delighted_ to watch the _news_ , of all things, but it was the only channel everyone could agree on.

Raan lead him, Xala, and Zaemin through the tidy grid of medical cubicles, past more marines having exams done and weights and heights recorded, to a larger cubicle with three cots aligned along three sides, shooing each of them towards one and helping Zaemin onto his. Then she made a beeline for Gerrel.

Gerrel groaned loudly. “Aw, c’mon, Mum! Why d’you always gotta start with _me?”_

“I’m doing it in alphabetical order,” she answered matter-of-factly, lightly swatting his shoulder. “Now get up and come here.”

She pointed him towards a scale sitting near a couple other rather scary-looking contraptions, nudging him incessantly until he finally got on the damn thing and stopped moving. Then she did her… thing… with the things until whatever it was did the thing she wanted and _hmm_ ed disapprovingly. “Han, you weigh 119 kilos.”

“What?” Gerrel scowled at her over his shoulder. “I’m a marine, it’s muscle!”

Raan frowned at him. “Not all of it, Han.”

_“What?_ So my abs have a little covering, it’s not that bad! It’s _healthy!”_

Raan just rolled her eyes and nudged him off the scale. “Of course it is. That’s what you’ve said the past three times, and yet you’ve somehow managed to gain 18 kilograms in four months. Of _course_ that’s healthy.”

_“Han,”_ Xala tutted.

“Well, it _is!”_

“Of course it is,” Raan groused. “Hold still.”

Gerrel grumbled but obliged, waiting as his mother did whatever it was she was doing with the height-y stick-y thing, announced, “Still 170 centimeters, at least that’s still good,” and shooed him back to the cot. “Now sit down so I can test your cybernetics.”

“Mum, do we really have to do that every single time?”

Raan gave him a Look.

He huffed. “Can you at least give me a _warning_ first? It’s disorienting.”

Pulling up her omni-tool, she _hrmm_ ed, and he took that as his cue to brace himself. With a grumble and a growl, he ducked his head, squeezing his eyes shut. There was some cheery noises from his mother’s omni-tool, and she clicked her tongue. “Come on, Han. I can’t test anything if you won’t look at me.”

He was tempted to test her on that, but remembered the few times he’d chosen to be testy as a child and gotten a sharp smack upside the head for his troubles, and decided against it. He valued the back of his skull a little too much. With a heavy sigh, he cracked open his good eye first, then slowly pried both open.

Even with proper warning and time to adjust, it was still jarring to have his eye turned off. The bare organ itself had been left inside his head to minimize trauma, just with some fancy new tech added so he’d retain function. The shrapnel had actually sliced open his eyelid along with the cornea, so even with his eye on he could still close the bad eye and see where the light became a vague purplish color as it shone through scar tissue instead of skin, but that was pure aesthetic. The cornea was another story. As he eased the bad eye open, his brain started to merge the pictures together, and it just got an ugly mess for its trouble. There was a swath of messy gray slicing a jagged, diagonal path from top to bottom—that was the scar proper. Around it, light warped and wavered, giving him a horrifying, kaleidoscopic abomination of color where his mother had been not a minute earlier. His vision was only truly clear in the very corners and on the rightmost side, where his good eye’s input was unmarred by the other’s.

He blinked furiously for a moment, then gave the hideous _thing_ standing where his beautiful mother should be his fiercest scowl. “Can we _please_ get this over with?”

She sighed. “Please at least _try_ to keep your eye open the entire time. I know it’s uncomfortable, but if I don’t get good readings now, you’ll have to start again.”

“Yes, yes, I know, just hurry up.”

There was a murky blaze of orange, then, agonizingly slowly, things started moving. First the retinal sensors onlined, giving him slightly more defined outlines to the warped monstrosities. Then the lens started trying to focus, which really only made the problem worse, if you asked him, since now he could see exactly how the bad tissue warped and twisted Raan into a nightmare. The iris control went next, and the image dimmed and brightened as it tried to orient itself before finally settling on a midground. The last part, the reorienting of extra lenses and mirrors to rearrange light around the scar so it would hit his retina like nothing was wrong, always made him feel at least a little bit sick to his stomach as shapes twisted and churned, for a moment making the terror even _more_ horrible before finally getting it right and allowing Raan to settle back into her natural shape.

He hadn’t noticed he was swaying slightly until he felt a hand on his shoulder and Xala whispering a few words of encouragement. He sucked in a deep breath and leaned back into his husband’s touch as Raan nodded to herself and tapped a few keys on her omni-tool. “Very good, Han. Everything is working properly. And thank you, Aerazl.”

Xala nodded and sat back once Gerrel had recovered from his brief dizzy spell, though Gerrel immediately wished he’d just kept where he was when Raan deactivated her omni-tool and motioned to a nearby nurse, calling, “Would you mind drawing blood for these three?”

Gerrel tensed. He saw Xala flinch out of the corner of his eye and heard Zaemin groan, watching the nurse nod and bustle over and pick up a sterile syringe with his jaw clenched. “Nope. Not doing that, sorry, Mum. I don’t do needles.”

“Well, you’re about to do needles,” Raan absently replied, already pulling Xala up from his cot and leading him to the height and weight stuff. “All three of you are on medications and we have to make sure they’re not causing any problems with your—”

“I know! But can we just… _not,_ for once?” Gerrel bared his teeth at the nurse, who hesitated and shot Raan a wary look. “I’ve been on the same meds for years and they ain’t killed me yet.”

“You know as well as I do that that doesn’t mean a thing.”

“Mum, I love you very, very much, and I respect you as much as I love you.” He paused for dramatic effect. “But fuck no.”

“Han.”

“Nope.”

_“Han.”_

“Nu-uh.”

She glowered at him over the rims of her glasses.

He groaned. “Fine. Stop _looking_ at me like that, I feel like you’re gonna pick me up by the neck and put me in time-out or something.”

The medic, without missing a beat, jabbed the needle into the inside of his arm, then had the audacity to give him a dirty look when he yelped and jumped, nearly tearing the needle right back out of his arm. “Give me some warning, you jackass!”

_“Han!”_ Raan scolded, turning away from Xala for a moment to give him an acidic look.

He groaned and resisted the urge to kick his feet against the table like an impatient child. “Lay off, _Mother_ , I just got stabbed!”

“And you will endure it like an _adult_ , Han’Gerrel vas _Neema_ ,” she all but hissed, and it took all Gerrel’s willpower not to flinch away from the rare venom in her voice.

He gritted his teeth but held his tongue as the nurse drew blood, instead choosing to focus on watching Xala fidget while Raan fussed. After a moment, she tutted and made a note on her datapad. “Gained six kilo, Aerazl,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m disappointed in you.”

Xala made a choked, sputtering sort of noise. “What? Why? I- I didn’t- An extra six kilo isn’t _bad!”_

“No, I suppose not,” she sighed, casting a vaguely disapproving look at Gerrel, who was now rubbing his arm where the syringe had been pulled out, before gently patting his stomach. “Just be careful, would you?”

He shied away a little, an expression that would have been convincingly wounded had Gerrel not known him long enough to figure out it was fake in the name of sympathy on his face. “Admiral, _please_ …”

Raan rolled her eyes, then glanced at her omni-tool as it beeped at her. “Oh, one moment, boys. They were a little too rough with Del. I’ll be right back. Don’t do anything. I’ll know.”

Gerrel turned his head to follow as she walked out, then promptly mocked her the moment she was gone. “Feh. I’m not that stupid. Xala, go do something stupid, we need a distraction.”

Xala made an offended noise, and he rolled his eyes. “It’s a joke. Come on, while Hazir’s not here to tell us how many rules we’re breaking.”

He hopped off the cot and wandered over to the desk where Raan had been setting her things. Zaemin grabbed his crutches from the cot next to him, then hefted himself to his foot and hobbled along after him with a grin. “Funny how he always complains, then goes and helps us, anyway, innit?”

“He picked it up from Xala, back before you showed up.” Gerrel shrugged. “Figures if he goes along, he can at least convince us to take the lesser of two evils.”

Zaemin considered this for a minute, then nodded slowly, edging towards the wall. “Yeah, that actually makes more sense than what I was thinking, now you mention it.”

Gerrel hopped up to sit on the desk and folded his legs, raising a brow at Zaemin. “What were you thinking?”

“Thought he’d finally learned how to have fun.”

Gerrel snorted. “Nah, we’re still working on that. ‘least he can say the word now.”

Zaemin cracked a grin. “That’s actually more than I was expecting.”

“I know, right? Dude’s, what, almost fifty? We’ve been working on it for twenty.” Gerrel cast a conspiratorial look around, then ducked his head and snatched one of the datapads strewn about the desk with a quiet little cackle. His face fell once he’d turned it on. “Aw, dammit. I was hoping it’d be Xala’s.”

“What is it?” Zaemin leaned in, balancing precariously on one crutch so he could use his other hand to pull the datapad back where he could see it.

Gerrel made a face as he tilted the datapad towards Zaemin. _“Yours._ I can’t make a joke outta you, you do it enough yourself!”

Zaemin blinked, then just gave a grin and an easy shrug. “It’s a gift, what can I say?”

Gerrel grinned, then tapped a few keys. “Eh, let’s look, anyway. Maybe we’ll find a note saying where you left your brain.”

“Very funny.”

He sneered at him, then swiped to the first entry with a flourish.

And promptly jumped, letting out a startled grunt sort of noise and almost dropping the datapad. “Keelah se’lai!”

“What? What is it?” Zaemin asked, hobbling closer with Xala close behind.

Gerrel turned the pad so they could see the picture glowering up from the top of the entry, of a familiar young man with brown hair buzzed down to maybe half the length of the end digit of Gerrel’s thumb, labeled neatly in the galactic standard: _Saar’Zaemin nar Ilium, pictured here on-site with Arshorth division Special Tasks Group squadron M-113. Prior to picture, subject showed stubborn resistance to attempts at joking around by Commander Trelo and associates_. The boy in the picture still had both eyes and arms, and presumably both legs, though it wasn’t visible, but it was definitely Zaemin.

But at the same time, it couldn’t be.

Zaemin took the pad with one hand, eyes going wide. “Is… that really me?”

“That’s what the caption says,” Xala murmured, “but something’s… different?”

“ _Wrong_ , more like,” Zaemin said, a scowl slowly marring his face. “I look like somebody just told me they ran over a varren on their way there.”

Gerrel plucked the pad out of his hands and started scrolling through the file. “Maybe you were just having a bad day? Let me see.”

Now Xala snatched it away, scanning the text. “This says you were very stern? And serious? That can’t be right… The salarians didn’t seem to have that high an opinion of you, for some reason. Here, a note from that Commander Trelo: ‘The quarian kid’s a horrible downer. A few of my men think he’s the Adjudicator become flesh.’” He glanced up, looking between Gerrel and Zaemin. “The Adjudicator?”

Zaemin grunted. “Salarian god of justice and the courts. S’posed to be some ultra-stickler for rules and law. Like Hazir, if he didn’t have a sense of humor and didn’t let us get away with anything.”

“Ah.” Xala nodded, then continued reading: “‘He and Maekso got in a row a few weeks back. Maekso’s sister has a breeding contract soon, so her brothers are needed to help mind the clutch until after they’ve left the water, and Zaemin thought he was making excuses to skip out. I thought they were going to rip each other apart.’”

The three of them stared at the datapad in shock, then Xala and Gerrel looked up at Zaemin. “What the _fuck_ , man?” Gerrel asked.

Zaemin looked to be having just as much trouble processing the new information as Gerrel was. “I don’t know! I… I don’t believe it? How could I have _ever_ been like that?”

Footsteps sounded outside, and they looked up as Raan re-entered the room. “And what do you three think you’re doing?” she sighed.

“Mum, have you seen this?” Gerrel demanded, waving the datapad at her.

She grimaced, then grabbed his wrist next time it got in her face and dug her fingers into the spot between his forearm bones until he released the datapad. “Let me _see_ , Han, and then I can tell you,” she scolded, shaking her head as she pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. She skimmed the page, checking out what they’d been looking at, then made a vague noise. “Ah. I see. You’re wondering if this is correct?”

Gerrel nodded sharply, and she sighed. “Well, Han,” she said gently, “he _does_ have brain damage.”

Gerrel gave her a stunned look as she went on, “If you’d kept going in this file, you’d know the next report was from after the surgeries to save his life. There’s notes about the personality change there.”

Zaemin shook his head. “So… You’re telling me… I used to be an _absolute jackass_ … and I’m only the way I am now because _a building fell on me?”_

“And pulverized your brain, yes,” Raan deadpanned. “Anyway, we can discuss it later. We have a lot to do. Han, Aerazl, I need to check over Saar’s cybernetics, so unless you’d rather see all that, you may go back to the common area.”

Gerrel sputtered. “What, just like that? ‘Oh, by the way, you’re only a nice guy cause of severe brain damage, run along now!’”

“I said, we’ll discuss it later. Go, Han.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but the look in her eyes made him think better of it, and he turned to skulk out of the room, delicate footsteps behind him telling him Xala was hot on his heels.

Back out in the commons, the news had been switched to a biotiball match, and Madelivio and Savval were cheerfully taking bets on the victor while little Shala’Ganu trawled the extranet, calling out odds when asked. Gerrel flopped down on a beat-up sofa, eyeing the vidscreen. “Who’s playing?” he asked, scooting over so Xala could sit next to him.

Ganu looked up at him with big eyes. “Usaru Maestros versus Ato Waotyan’an.”

“Asari against salarians. Nice. Who’s winning?”

“It’s close. The Maestros have a strong offense, but salarians are naturally defensive, so the Waotyan’an are in their element. Most of their points have come from rebounding Maestro offenses.”

“Cool.” He laced his fingers together and lounged back with his hands behind his head, leaning against Xala so he didn’t fall over. “I miss anything on the news?”

“Councilor Rawan’s looking at retirement,” the younger Haasn reported from his place in Madelivio’s lap. “And a hanar ambassador got in a high-speed skycar chase running from a bar that turned out to be run by the volus mafia.”

Gerrel blinked slowly. _“What?”_

Haasn looked like he was suffering some real dreadful secondhand embarrassment on the hanar’s behalf. “C-Sec fired a warning flare into the skycar’s rear thruster. It crashed into a lake on the Presidium.”

“You’re joking.”

“They had vid footage of a krogan pulling him out with a fishing rod.”

“It was kinda cute,” Madelivio added. “The krogan was all ecstatic ’cause his buddy told him he wouldn’t catch anything.”

Gerrel slowly removed his hands from behind his head and pressed them into his eyes. “Xala,” he said, “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: the Citadel’s full of _loons_.”

Xala snorted, and Gerrel smiled, putting his hands in his lap and shifting so Xala could put his arm around his shoulders.

Savval was opening her mouth to say something when the sounds of the game suddenly cut off, replaced by an emergency bulletin… noise. Thing. Whatever. The Maestros and Waotyan’an disappeared, and an asari news anchor popped up in their place, the banner under her reading _Sumava Kenemi_. “We interrupt this broadcast to bring you this urgent bulletin,” she said, eyes wide. “The batarian embassy has been brutally attacked in an act of domestic terrorism, reports are flooding in…”

_“What?”_ Gerrel said, sitting up sharply as frantic murmurs broke out around the room. Madelivio almost hopped to his feet, stopping at the last second so Haasn wouldn’t tumble out of his lap. Savval’s omni-tool flashed, and a little bar at the bottom of the vidscreen appeared as the volume went up.

“… C-Sec has yet to release security footage, but reports from paramedics say thus far there are seven dead and more wounded. Survivors are being rushed to hospitals around the Presidium for treatment.” The asari paused and put a hand to the side of her head, then continued, “We go live to Jessamine Parker outside the human embassy, with a statement from Ambassador Donnel Udina.”

The shot cut to a dark-skinned human with an ashen face and hands that shook when he moved to run them through his hair. “This is a horrific tragedy,” he was saying as a little banner reading _Donnel Udina – Chief Ambassador, Systems Alliance_ popped up at his collarbone, “and I am immensely dismayed that anyone, especially my own people, would commit such an act. The Alliance does not, cannot, and will not condone what happened at the batarian embassy today.”

“Ambassador,” said the reporter from off-screen, “does the Alliance have any idea what prompted these attacks?”

Udina hesitated, then sighed and replied, “We have reason to believe this is a response to the recent attack on the colony of Mindoir. While I can understand being angry about the atrocities on the colony, attacking an embassy is not the answer.”

“But, sir-”

The shot cut again, back to the asari. “Ambassador Amahbeg Jacas could not be reached for comment. I’ve just received confirmation that Representatives Arkan Ran’julak and Jatem Ib’bat have died at the hospital. Ambassador Canne Nar’ka has been stabilized and is expected to recover within the week. We’re still waiting on the rest, but I’ve been promised updates will continue coming in as time progresses. We go now to a video interview with Captain Hannah Shepard, commanding officer at the Mindoir response, who has graciously agreed to speak with us.” Her shot narrowed to half the screen, the other half taken up by a human woman in Alliance dress blues with tired eyes, dark skin, red hair, and more freckles than even Nahza, somehow. “Good afternoon, Captain, and thank you so much for giving us a moment of your time on such short notice.”

The human nodded. “It’s no problem, Sumava. My pleasure.”

“Captain, there are reports that the attack on the batarian embassy was in response to Mindoir. Your thoughts?”

Shepard frowned. “If it is, then I’m appalled and disgusted. The batarians at the embassy had nothing to do with the attack on Mindoir. Going after them is downright _evil_.”

“But there are rumors the slavers who raided Mindoir were funded by the Hegemony under the table, correct?”

“That’s correct. But the point stands. To attack innocents over an event beyond their influence is unforgiveable.” She was starting to say more when her omni-tool went off, and she flushed slightly as she checked it. “Oh, I’m sorry, it’s my daughter, I have to pick up or she’ll just get more upset, do you mind? Just for a moment.”

“Not at all, ma’am. Go ahead.”

Shepard hurriedly tapped at her omni-tool, then flinched almost comically at a hysterical wail that came out of the comm. _“Moooooom!”_

“Jade, honey, not now, I’m-”

_“I knooooow!”_

The rest Gerrel couldn’t make out, but that didn’t really matter, because Zaemin chose that moment to come staggering back in, now plus one leg and minus most of the color in his face. “Hey,” he panted, “this place is like a morgue, what’s up?”

When his only response was a round of shushing noises, he drew back slightly, looking around. “What? It’s not anything I did, is it?”

Savval motioned him over and started explaining in fervent whispers, and Gerrel watched Zaemin’s eyes slowly grow until he swore they would pass the boundaries of his face. He sat down hard, then buried his face in his hands and mumbled, “Today is a _very_ bad day.”

Gerrel spared a moment to pity him, then returned his attention to the vidscreen, watching in muted horror as names and statuses piled onto the screen. Kralan Dal’serak, dead. Toran Hethrak, dead. Jemoklak Kruka, critical condition. Kray Sharr, dead. Dead. Wounded. Dead. Dead. Critical. Alive. Alive. Wounded. Dead.

He looked away, and Xala cautiously pulled him into a hug, one that felt more out of solidarity than desire to comfort.

He didn’t look up again until the asari anchor said, “C-Sec has just released security footage from the attack.” The camera cut away from her, replaced by a grainy, up-high view of the embassy. Most batarians in the shot were working, a couple hanging around and chatting amicably. The asari droned on over the footage, but Gerrel wasn’t listening, transfixed by the scene unfolding. People, humans, walking into the embassy. A diplomat jumping up, motioning like they were demanding to know what they were doing where they didn’t belong. Too-casual body language. A gun being drawn.

In the corner of the shot, one of the humans turned just enough for Gerrel to see a sigil emblazoned on their shoulder. There was a sharp intake of breath from Nahza, followed quickly by him clamping a hand over his mouth. Gerrel frowned, and just as his eye worked to clear the image, Savval let out a gasp. “Sir!”

“I see it, Donya,” he said, gritting his teeth as the hexagonal shape came into focus. “Nahza, what’s with you?”

The words had barely left his mouth before Nahza blurted, “I know who that is!”

Savval grunted. “Yeah, we-”

“No, you don’t get it, I know _who_ that is!”

Gerrel scowled over at him. “What are you on about?”

Nahza looked like he was about to swallow his own tongue. “I seen that logo on Omega, they used ta be all over ’fore I left, ’til maybe a year ’fore that, they got Arutvor all riled up, an’ him an’ his boys took it ta Aria an’ got special permission ta raze ’em.”

“Who’s Arutvor?” Reegar interjected, frowning.

Nahza shook his head. “Think’a the biggest, nastiest krogan you ever done seen, an’ triple ’im an’ give ’im heavy weapons w’ incendiary stuff. Arutvor’s a _mean_ motherfucker. An’ he’s got this li’l band’a thugs, more krogan, all mean like him. ’cept Wragg, Wragg’s nice. He likes flowers. None too bright, though. But Arutvor’s the worst.”

Gerrel snorted. “Yeah, yeah, big, scary krogan. Get to the point, _Jorren_.”

Nahza gave him a vaguely offended look. “Y’ain’t gotta be rude.” He shook his head a bit, then went on, “Anyway, it’s Surrabus… Serbus… Serbia… Cinnabon…” He made a face and forced out, “Cer-ber-us. There. Them.”

“And who are they?”

“Some human thang, Iunno. Think Zippy said human black ops?” Gerrel motioned for Savval to close Reegar’s mouth before he could ask who Zippy was. “Human supremacist stuff. Bad news. Morvarn an’ his- no, wait, not s’posed to talk ’bout that, I di’n’t said nothin’.”

Lila’Yaana elbowed Reegar. “Hear that? It’s Hazir, having an aneurysm, all the way from the bridge.”

Gerrel snickered, then snapped his attention back to the vidscreen as the anchor stammered, “Oh- oh, my goddess, oh… Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve just received word that the human embassy has been attacked in retaliation for the earlier attack on the batarian embassy…”

The _Neema_ commons went silent as the grave, but only for a moment before Zaemin cut loose with a hysterical wail, sinking his head into his hands and starting to shake as his frame was wracked with muffled sobs. Not even a moment later, Gerrel was on his feet, bellowing for Ashalla to get his mother. Xala looked like he was deciding whether or not to faint dead away, and Gerrel spared a moment to grab his hand. “Xala, babe, stay with me,” he urged. “I need you to go find Hazir, tell him what’s going on, keep the ship running, yeah? I’ll get in… oh, no,” he finished, turning slowly to watch the vidscreen again as a new shot popped up, a chilling scene unfolding with a slowly-blinking “LIVE” signal in the bottom corner.

The human ambassador from earlier, Udina, that was his name, was nearly nose-to-nose with a batarian he assumed had to be Ambassador Jacas, yelling something about an outrage and how inappropriate it was. Jacas kept interjecting, hollering, but Gerrel’s brain was shutting down in shock, tossing out unnecessary processes like the auditory cortex. There were words, he heard them, but he didn’t hear them, didn’t know what they were. All he knew was that they were angry, angry, very angry, shoving each other, screaming.

A turian was trying to pull them apart. Smaller than Madelivio, more brown than red, starting to pale in the face. Councilor Sparatus. A salarian hovered behind him, omni-tool at the ready, tech armor flickering into place over greenish-gray skin and deep red robes- Councilor Rawan, had to be. Sparatus got between the quarreling ambassadors, facing Jacas, bad omen for the batarians. A hand on either chest, then a sharp _crack_ as Sparatus forced his arms apart and his plates locked into place, a stiff barrier until the old man saw fit to break it himself. Parted jaws, flared mandibles, infuriated roar, Madelivio was squirming and squealing and holding his cowl in some pain only he could feel.

Jacas decided not to heed the warning. He took a step back, then to the side, then lunged for Udina. A flash of Rawan’s arm, a blaze of angry orange, and Jacas fell, his own omni-tool now crackling with the energy surge of the neural shock Rawan had unleashed.

Behind Gerrel, he heard footsteps, then his mother. A frantic question his fragmenting mind couldn’t understand.

“Get the others,” he heard himself say. “Emergency meeting. There’s gonna be a war.”

* * *

Gerrel’s leg had gone past bouncing and into flat-out stomping, pounding out a steady, too-quick rhythm into the floor of the meeting room. The muscles were starting to hurt from the incessant motion, but he couldn’t stop. Even if he tried, it would just start back up again in a few moments.

Psychomotor agitation was kind of awful like that.

Looking around the room, the other admirals weren’t faring much better. Rael and Shaesa’Hiim were asleep on their feet, having been practically half-dragged out of their cubicles in the middle of their turns to sleep. Tuzh’s hair was sticking up in wonky directions, and he’d apparently been in such a hurry he’d forgotten to grab his cane. Raan was shaking, with Harras sitting next to her and rubbing her back to try and soothe her. Raalun was running on energy drinks, with two open ones in front of her and a third visible in her bag.

Harras glanced around, then sighed. “So how many of you know why we’re here?”

Four hands. Gerrel and Raan, Harras, Raalun. Rael seemed like he was considering putting his hand up, then gave up and slumped over to go back to sleep.

Tuzh gave him a pitying look, then dug in his bag, leaned over, and jabbed what Gerrel recognized from experience as an adrenaline shot into an injection port on Rael’s shoulder. “That should do. Would someone _please_ fill me in? I’ve been in my lab the past couple days, I’ve no idea what everyone’s panicking about.”

“Batarians attacked a human colony, humans attacked batarian embassy, batarians attacked human embassy, big mess,” Raalun rattled off, not even bothering to look up from the datapads scattered in front of her. “Council was originally split, the attack on the batarians prompted a switch to their side, then the attack on the human embassy switched their sympathies again. Batarians are now threatening to close their embassy if something isn’t done.”

Gerrel frowned. “And how d’you know all that?”

“I was watching the press release, you protein-guzzling buffoon,” she said, deigning to look up long enough to glower at him. “How else?”

He curled his lip, something niggling in the back of his mind to be wary of Raalun. He’d learned over the years to listen to that instinct, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember what was wrong with Raalun to set it off.

It would hit him in the middle of the night and he’d wake half the _Neema_ with his realization, he just knew it.

Hiim yawned. “There was a press release?” she asked, blinking slowly with a furrow in her brow.

“You were asleep, Shaesa.” Raan reached over to pat Hiim’s shoulder. “I think I have a recording you can watch once we’re done here.”

“Oh… Okay.”

Tuzh wordlessly offered her an adrenaline shot like the one he’d given Rael, but as she reached for it, she fell facefirst onto the table, collapsing limply with a series of _thud_ s. Tuzh blinked slowly, then sighed and started administering the shot himself.

Harras snorted, and Raan shook her head. “Thank you, Jael. But yes, as Mira said, the batarians and humans are at each other’s throats more than usual. It would appear we are on the brink of galactic war.”

That got everyone’s attention. Murmurs broke out, frantic glances around the table. Harras cleared his throat and banged his fist on the table, and the room went silent again as Raan nodded to him and continued, “We’re here to try to decide what to do in the event the dispute cannot be resolved peacefully.”

Gerrel hissed, drawing his lips back to show his teeth. “The Fleet’s vulnerable. We can’t just sit around and let the war find us, Heavy Fleet doesn’t have enough firepower to keep everyone safe. Civvies would get demolished, Patrol doesn’t have it in ’em to hold up, and Special Projects is a whole lot of labs.”

Tuzh, now back in his seat, scowled fiercely at him. “Oh, don’t start this again,” he scolded. “There’s no point to regaining the homeworld now, it’s a lost cause.”

Gerrel liked to think he bared his teeth _especially_ fiercely at him. “We’ve got a whole _one_ working bloody dreadnought and a mess of fighters that’re more scrap than ship, you coward, we don’t have _time_ to look for a new place!”

“Which is exactly why your plan would have us all slaughtered!”

“Gentlemen, _please_ ,” Raan interrupted, eyes shooting daggers at the both of them. “Now is very far from the time.”

“It’s _never_ the time, is it?” Hiim said, voice barely above a murmur. “And it won’t be until we run out of food. What if this war destroys a liveship?”

“That’s not what this meeting is about-”

“It _should_ be. You asked us to make plans for war, we won’t survive a war if a third of the Flotilla has no food.”

Rael fidgeted, ducking his head. “Supplies are tight. I don’t know if we can survive another decade of _peace_.”

The room went silent as the grave and ominous as the morgue, Rael’s words hanging in the air between them. Finally, Harras cleared his throat. “We don’t know for certain that it will come to war,” he said gently. “Both sides have drawn blood now, and near as I can tell, the ones left standing tend to be more level-headed. That human ambassador seems to have a good head on his shoulders, if just a tad human-centric. Let’s all go back home, take a couple weeks to wait and see what happens. Come up with contingency plans. Special Projects, keep working on the liveship improvements. Increase work if you can, but if nothing else, make sure we live to see this century out.”

There were mumbled sounds of agreement and assent, and Hiim heaved a sigh. “I suggest we all pick a god and start praying.”


	26. We're Back, and Boy Howdy, Do We Ever Have a Lot to Say

“… so, basically,” Axilus said, “the batarians are throwing a fit about the humans throwing a fit because the batarians are throwing a fit because the Council is backing the humans because the batarians attacked the humans for stealing batarian territory and not giving it back because they’ve already planted a million flags all over their new colonies and the humans attacked the batarians back because the batarians attacked them first but the Council declared that in self-defense so they’re not being prosecuted for terrorism but the batarians _are_ and obviously they’re not happy about that, and now it’s all a huge mess that everyone’s getting involved in because the batarians are threatening to withdraw from the Citadel, which hasn’t happened since—uh, well, you know.” He paused a moment, then shrugged and added, “Or, that’s what my mom said my granddad told _her.”_

Tavvi blinked slowly at him. “Um… What?”

Reegar briefly glanced up from cleaning his gun, tapping a button on his omni-tool to quiet the music blaring loud enough for Axilus to hear a muffled version coming out of his hood. “Was that Basic?”

Axilus flicked his mandibles in irritation, but before he could start again, Thie piped up. “He said his grandfather told his mom that the batarians and humans have been fighting since the 314, it’s coming to a head, and now everyone’s panicking ’cause the batarians finally got pissed enough to threaten to go rogue.” He paused for a moment and coughed roughly into a fist, then adjusted his head so it was more comfortably leaning against Axilus’s side. He then added in a mumble, “You did say grand _father_ , right? Or was that grand _mother_?” He shook his head, and Axilus could picture the way his eyes would clench shut despite the opaque mask blocking him from view. “Keelah, Zouklian is _hard_ …”

Axilus bobbed his head, leaning over to bump his head against Thie’s. “No, you were right. _Paripateras_ is my father’s father. ‘Father’s mother’ would be _parimateras_.”

“ _Parimateras_ …” Thie repeated to himself, tongue awkward and stiff against the unfamiliar language. Without subvocals, the word didn’t sound quite right against Axilus’s cowl, but the effort was sweet.

Axilus gave Thie an encouraging smile he couldn’t see. “Close,” he said. “Don’t sweat it too much. Those are just the formal forms of the words. We usually say _parpat_ and _parmat_. Affectionate shorthand. I’d only call Grandpa ‘ _Paripateras_ ’ if I was in trouble and I wanted to be sure he knew I’m scared of him and know he could flay my hide if he wanted to.”

“Whatever you call him, he sounds about right to me,” Ashalla said from her position at one of the few actual tables in the commons, now buried under more datapads and terminal screens than Axilus thought should probably fit. “The admiral filled me in and what he said he heard from the meeting yesterday sounds pretty much like what you just said.”

Axilus’s mandibles fluttered as he glanced up at her. “Really? So what’s _his_ take on all this, then?”

“Classified.”

“Dammit.”

Savval pried her attention from her current futile arm wrestling match with Nahza to pout in Ashalla’s general direction. “Aw, c’mon, we won’t tell anyone.”

“Nope.”

“Please?”

“I said no.” A datapad clattered down into the steadily-growing pile on the floor at Ashalla’s hip. “Seriously, I can’t tell you anything, so stop asking. I’m the _Neema’s_ head comms tech, not a conduit for gossip and hearsay.”

“It’s not hearsay if it came from the admiral’s mouth,” Axilus pointed out.

Ashalla rolled her eyes and tossed another datapad aside, muttering to herself for a moment while sifting through her ‘to-do’ stack again. “I could literally be exiled for telling you about the proceedings of an Admiralty Board meeting without explicit permission from one of the admirals, you know. If you wanna know so bad, ask Gerrel himself, not me. I’m not putting my job at risk to satisfy the curiosity of a bunch of stupid teenagers.”

Savval puffed up in comical offense. “Who’re you callin’ a teenager, you whippersnapper?” She did the standard “cranky old person” accent for good measure, though it wasn’t like she was _that_ much older than Ashalla.

Ashalla cast a bored glance over her shoulder and went back to work.

Nahza just snorted. “Woulda been better not sayin’ nothin’.”

“Fuck off.” There was a loud _clank,_ and Nahza yelped loudly. “And get a better arm.”

The room burbled with soft laughter for a moment, then fell into uncomfortable silence again until Tavvi spoke up again, asking Ashalla, “So, how did you understand everything the turian said? I’m so confused on what happened…”

“Yeah, I was about to ask that,” Lila’Yanna agreed, propping her chin up on her hand. “I’ve never heard Maddie talk so much and say so little all at once. How did you make _sense_ of all that?”

“I worked with salarians on my Pilgrimage,” Ashalla answered simply.

Savval quirked an eyebrow. “And _that_ just raises even _more_ questions.”

“It’s a long story that I’m not telling you.”

“What if we ask?”

“Fuck no.”

“Nicely?”

“Ask all you want, I’m not telling you about my Pilgrimage. It’s old news.” She blew a lock of hair out of her eyes. “If you want Pilgrimage stories, go ask Han’Gerrel.”

“Is your default answer to any of us asking something just _always_ gonna be ‘go ask the admiral’?”

“Yes. So go ask the admiral.”

“Ask the admiral what now?” Gerrel asked, marching in with his eyes glued to a datapad and Xala and Hazir hustling to keep up. “If it’s what Xala is like in bed, if I’ve told you jarheads once, I’ve told you a thousand times, there are some aspects of my marriage I like to keep private.”

Xala reached over and snatched the datapad out of his hand. “Han!”

“Xala, I know you don’t think so, but I do in fact need that. Give it back.”

Xala frowned, but handed the datapad back to Gerrel before striding over to Ashalla to collect another bundle of the things she was gesturing towards. “And what are the lot of you lazing about for?”

“Waiting for comms, sir,” Savval said, her and Nahza at a standstill with neither arm moving. “Nothing better to do ’til then.”

Without missing a beat, Hazir asked, “Ashalla, do you need any help?”

Ashalla didn’t look up. “No, sir, but even if I did, I wouldn’t take it. This is too classified and your ‘volunteers’ are too gossipy.”

Hazir frowned slightly and drifted over. _“How_ classified?”

She flipped over the datapad on top of her pile. “Too classified for _you_ , sir. Scram.”

He scowled at her, then drifted over to lean against the wall as Gerrel pulled out a seat and fell into it hard. Xala gave Gerrel a dirty look that he then cast over the rest of them like a shitty, undesirable blanket before pivoting and stalking off.

Axilus watched him go, then flicked a mandible. “What’s he so snippy for?”

“Fuck if I know,” Gerrel groused with a grimace, glowering at his datapad again. “He’s been like that for _days_ now. Worst bit is, the shit rearranged our shifts so we’re not sleeping at the same hours. Only ever does that when I’ve _really_ messed up, but I haven’t a clue what I’ve apparently done wrong.”

“He’s just frustrated with everything and is taking it out on everyone else,” Hazir said, checking his omni-tool. “Told me himself yesterday. He hates feeling like everyone’s in danger and not being able to do anything.”

Gerrel smacked his datapad against the chair arm. “Then why the fuck did he switch the sleeping schedules?”

Hazir shrugged. “Doesn’t like seeing you when things go bad. He worries even more, because he knows you won’t be as concerned as he is.”

Gerrel thought about this, and his expression softened slightly. “Aw.” Then he shook himself and curled his lip, brow furrowing again. “Still doesn’t excuse him being a dick, though. I’m the captain, damn him.”

The group went quiet as the officers went back to their work and the marines, now deprived of the brief flash of entertainment, reluctantly went back to their bored activities of choice. Thie coughed like he was trying to dislodge something, and Axilus gently patted his back before settling back. He had been reading- well, _re_ reading, really, for the twenty-third time, a book his grandfather used to read to him as a nestling. A real book, with paper and ink, not a datapad. It was very old, and bore the marks of countless re-bindings. The edges of the paper were starting to go threadbare; it was a miracle Trierceo had parted with it for the unfeeling, rough treatment of the galactic post at all. The pages would need to be re-sealed when he got back to Palaven.

He’d heard some aliens made their paper out of dead _trees_. How horrifying! A heinous crime on Palaven, where preservation was top priority for its ecological stability-dependent denizens. The fewer the trees, the fewer the prey, and the weaker the turians who needed those delicious, succulent herbivores. Cutting down even a single tree on the homeworld without written, stamped, and signed permission from the government risked heavy repercussions, and those permissions were notoriously hard to come by. Axilus couldn’t imagine a planet that valued dead wood over living trees. It sounded like something out of a horror movie.

He _actually_ wanted to be working on a test he needed to finish for his anthropology class, but with the comms and extranet taxed to the limits from everyone trying to get in contact with friends who might have a clue of what was going on in Citadel space, that was going to be on hold for a while. He’d managed to slip out a message to his professor just before the call to his mother connected, asking for an extension, but who knew when he’d get the response.

“Hey, Maddie,” Lila’Yanna called, startling him out of the paragraph where Viridia and her mate had a sad goodbye (he’d cried for an hour the first time Trierceo had read that part to him). “Whatcha readin’?”

He blinked at her, flicking his mandibles, then held up the book so she could see the cover. “ _Colouti Malatos_. It’s a classic.”

“What’s it about?” Tavvi asked.

His mandibles quirked up. “Well, there’s these two crestless, and their mates both get sent out on deployment, right? And they stay behind on Palaven because, like, one’s a civic engineer, so she’s needed to keep the city stable, and the other one’s a teacher. And both of the mates die at war, and the two crestless help each other through the grieving process, and as they recover, they fall in love. The original ends with the marriage proposal, but I’ve seen some retellings that go on to cover the marriage and the rest. They’re not as good.” He sniffed. “They miss the whole _point_ of the story.”

“Oh, I read that one!” Nahza enthused. “Not the original, though. Mama couldn’t find that one. Jist a retellin’, with updated wordin’ an’ all.”

Axilus blinked at him and flicked a mandible. “When did _you_ read classical turian literature?”

“More importantly, when did you _read?”_ Ashalla grumbled.

Nahza scowled. There were lines in his face Axilus was pretty sure hadn’t been there a week ago, and his shoulders were hunched like cornered prey, a stark contrast to his usual stance. “What, you sayin’ I cain’t read nothin’ a’cause I’s from Omega? Tha’s jist rude.”

“No fighting,” Gerrel nearly snarled, teeth flashing in the washed-out lighting. “Either be civil about it, or go make yourselves busy elsewhere. I’ve got too much to do to be minding you slag-licks right now.”

There was a few moments of silence, then a muttered chorus of apology. Then Axilus ventured, “Which version did you read? Hermilea Macmus’s adaptation was pretty well-received, Grandpa said it got passed around to aliens, too…”

Nahza nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right. ’Course, Mama had t’ get a used copy, so it had a buncha dick drawrin’s in it…”

Axilus snickered, and Tavvi blinked at Nahza. “So you got to grow up on alien literature? What else did you read? What are all the different kinds like?”

Nahza got a brief look of panic in his eyes, then gave her a big, dopey grin. “Shucks, read a li’l of err’thang. Mama’s got lotsa diff’rent aliens fer reg’lars, so she asked ’em to bring in books ’n’ stuff fer me ’n’ my sisters. Even got one from one’a Arutvor’s crew. I never finished that one, it warn’t really that innerestin’.”

Axilus raised a brow plate and folded his arms. “Yet you read _Colouti Malatos_.”

“Aw, heck, that was one’a the best ones!” Nahza’s grin grew impossibly wider. “Ya ask me, some’a the best books Mama got us were the turian an’ salarian ones.”

Gerrel twitched in his seat and looked up from his datapad, staring just above it into space. “Salarians… Shit, Nahza’s a genius. Ashalla!” he barked, jumping to his feet. “Get Zaemin on the comm, I want him here _yesterday_.”

Ashalla raised a brow at him. “Sir, with all due respect, you just accused Nahza of being intelligent.”

Nahza mutter-scoffed, “Is it jist ‘nag Jorren day’ or somethin’…” He shook his head a little and turned to scowl at the wall, and whatever he said next was in a grumble low enough Axilus couldn’t hear it.

“I know what I said, Ashalla, just get Zaemin in here.” Gerrel’s voice was starting to edge towards the Command Voice™ Axilus had feared since before he could walk. “Zaemin’s got friends in STG command, if anybody can get us insider information on what’s up, it’s them.”

Ashalla pursed her lips. “Sir, with all due respect, Zaemin is already doing some work for me.”

“And he’ll get back to you when he’s done doing work for _me_.” Axilus’s mandibles clamped against his face at the steely edge to Gerrel’s voice. Bad.

“Fine.” If Gerrel’s voice was steel, Ashalla’s was _dilaven_ , the legendary metal ancient turians had wrested from fallen stars for their magical, never-dull weapons. “Then you can have fun with the backlog of data and comms connections that increases exponentially for every second Zaemin’s disconnected, because he’s currently functioning as a walking server booster.”

Gerrel took a moment to process the technical jargon, then scowled and folded his arms. “Ashalla, what have we said about using personnel as tools?”

“Ancestors, it’s just for a little while.”

“Get Zaemin in here, Shalen.” There was the Command Voice, just like Axilus knew it would be. “That’s an order.”

She scowled, then gave a (rather huffy, Axilus thought) salute. “Yes, sir.”

“ _Thank_ you.” Gerrel shook his head and collapsed backwards into his chair. “Hazir, go find Xala and tell him to quit being all huffy so I can give actual orders without getting my head damn near bit off, then get ahold of Rael and find out if he’s done talking to Admiral Bitchy Britches.”

“You mean Raalun,” Hazir said, already handing his datapad back to Ashalla.

“That’s what I said. Rael’s the one who still has our old contacts from Pilgrimage, I dumped my omni-tool’s memory and lost all the data. I need it.”

Hazir nodded and saluted, then about-faced and headed off in the direction Xala had left earlier.

Axilus watched him go, then turned and busied himself with making sure Thie was comfortable. Personally, he thought Thie should have just stayed at their cubicle to rest, given he’d woken up complaining of a monster migraine and coughing up a lung and a half, but Thie had insisted that he couldn’t leave Axilus unsupervised with the other marines; he might miss out on juicy gossip to tell Sephira. So instead, he was just sitting quietly against Axilus, mask opaque, audio input muffled, and chest occasionally shuddering with a suppressed cough. Axilus kept hoping he’d take a nap, but every time it seemed that way, Thie would respond to the conversation, or ask Axilus about his book, or, again, cough.

While he was adjusting the blanket neatly draped over Thie, he heard a bit of fidgeting, then Nahza ask, “Cap’n, sir, there wouldn’t happen to be nothin’ in there fer me, would there?”

“How should I know?” The venom in Gerrel’s voice made Axilus flinch. That was the tone turian children always heard shortly before getting cuffed by a grouchy elder relative.

He didn’t have to look to know Nahza was shrinking back. It was all in his voice. “Well, I mean, you’re the captain an’ all-”

“And the captain has better things to do than monitor the comms!” Gerrel snapped.

Without really thinking about it, Axilus moved so he was between Thie and the others. The entire commons was crackling with tension, and Thie was in no state to be defending himself if it broke the same way turians always broke it. Thie made a muffled complaint sort of noise, but otherwise didn’t seem to care much, so Axilus let him be.

Meanwhile, Nahza started to say something, but Savval socked his arm. “Can it, Jorren,” she grumbled. “Is it really worth getting on his bad side?”

Axilus tried to tell himself the murderous look on Nahza’s face was anything but as footsteps heralded the arrival of Zaemin and, a few strides behind, the reappearance of Xala and Hazir. “This better be important, Han,” Xala said without preamble, folding his arms as he came to a stop near Ashalla’s table.

Gerrel bared his teeth at him. “Don’t you get all haughty with me, _Aerazl_. If you’re going to be snippy, the least you can do is _pretend_ you respect my authority. Zaemin?”

Axilus didn’t know how Zaemin knew exactly what Gerrel was waiting for, but somehow he did. “Vilon’s been using up way more than his allotted bandwidth. Got an intern to go talk to him,” he said, handing Gerrel a datapad. “Gaaris has been taking advantage of the comm rush and trading comms time for favors and junk. I’m _pretty_ sure it’s not illegal, but it’s, uh…”

“Vile, cold-blooded, frowned upon, capitalist?” Hazir suggested.

“Yeah, those are good.” Another datapad to Gerrel. “Figured you might want to talk to her yourself. And Ashalla’s been making an awful lot of calls off-Fleet. Dunno where to, disappears into a bunch of relays, but she’s not the only one. List is on there.”

Gerrel raised a brow as he flicked through the pad. “And what might _you_ be up to, Ashalla?”

Ashalla pursed her lips. “It’s not important right now. I’ll tell you another time.”

“Where have we heard that before…” Gerrel shook his head and looked back at Zaemin. “That it?”

“That’s what I had on me. There’s more back up on the bridge.” He wasn’t looking at Gerrel, not really. Axilus wasn’t actually sure if his eyes were focused or not; tiny flickers of light blinked in and out of view across his eyes, and the faint outlines of his pupils followed them, quivering back and forth. Now that his hands weren’t busy with datapads, one twitched now and then like it would if Zaemin were using a terminal.

Sometimes it took Axilus a few minutes to remember Zaemin had some _really_ heavy-duty cybernetics. This was one of those times.

Whatever this development was, Gerrel wasn’t happy about it. “Hey, Zaemin, buddy,” he barked, snapping his fingers, “focus.”

Zaemin blinked and shook his head. “Huh? Oh, right, sure.”

Gerrel scowled, upper lip curling in that funny way fleshlings had. Then he clacked his teeth together. “Ashalla, what did I _just_ say?”

Ashalla threw her hands up in the air. “I told you, I _can’t_ , but who cares what Ashalla says, right? I’m just _head comms officer_ , nobody _important!_ Why do I bother explaining things to you when I know you won’t listen?” She shook her head and gave Gerrel the stink-eye. “Look, if we disconnect him, comms bottom out and complaints roll in by the thousands. Would you rather have kinda-spotty comms and a few complaints, or _no_ comms and everyone and their grandmother out for blood?”

Axilus was sure that if Gerrel had subvocals, they’d hurt to listen to right about now. “Fine, whatever,” he ground out, eyes slits so thin they were practically pinpricks. “Just- _agh_ , never mind. Zaemin,” he barked, rounding back on him, “any news from the Citadel, since you’re plugged into the extranet?”

Zaemin jumped slightly, then furrowed his brow. “Hold on…” His eyes widened briefly. “Oh, dude, there’s going to be a _hearing_ … Humans versus batarians, salarians mediating and presenting, Council presiding. It starts in less than an hour. I think… Keelah se’lai, the _honor guards_ got called in.”

“Keelah se-fucking- _lai_ ,” Gerrel breathed. “That stuff’s only for the really serious shit, innit?”

Axilus fidgeted and clicked his mandibles, suddenly wishing the officers could hear his subvocals. He still wasn’t quite sure how to convey “deference” and “sorry to bother you” and “I know the answer” all at once in a way non-turians could understand. When the adults turned to look at him, he whined quietly and said, “My dad told me, when I was a kid I mean, when I was little my dad said hearings are only when there’s a real risk of war.” Feeling his neck heat up, he added quickly, “I, um, he was stationed on the Citadel for a bit, and Mom took us to visit, and he showed us the Tower, and Tol asked what the big auditorium across from Spectre HQ was for…”

The room fell quiet for a moment, and he fidgeted even more, trying his hardest not to keen like a little baby. Hazir broke the silence: “That’s it, then, isn’t it?” he asked, voice softer than Axilus had ever heard it. He even thought there might be a slight quiver to it. “If the hearing doesn’t solve anything…”

Another pregnant pause filled the commons, longer than the last. This time Gerrel was the first to respond, clapping his hands once and standing up. “We’ll figure out what to do then when it happens. Hurry up and wait, you all know the drill. Xala, c’mere,” he said, already pacing towards his husband.

As Gerrel went into command mode, Axilus’s attention drifted back to Zaemin, who in turn seemed to have zoned out again. With a start, he noticed Zaemin’s lips were moving slightly, and he strained to listen. Underneath Gerrel’s brusque orders and Xala’s icy responses, Zaemin’s voice was the faintest ghost of auditory stimulation, but Axilus could just barely make out strings of random numbers, interspersed with the occasional comment. Most of them were “no, no, no,” but at one point he said, “I’m cutting you off,” and another, “Shit, whoops… Nobody sees, nobody knows.”

At that point he spotted Axilus watching him, and his eyes widened before he muttered, “Note to self: Shut up. Love, self. P.S., get some cookies.”

Axilus snorted, then jumped when a sudden yelp rang out across the room, followed by a _thud_ , a _crack_ , and a high-pitched, distressed, _“Han!”_

Twisting his head so fast his spinal plates clicked, he took in the scene: Ashalla had at some point moved behind Gerrel and had her hands outstretched, Gerrel had his hands pressed against his face and eyes screwed shut, the table Ashalla had been working at now had a decent-sized blood smear on it, and Xala had dropped his curt air and rushed to Gerrel’s side. “Shit, Ashalla, your hands are fucking _freezing!”_ Gerrel was complaining, voice muffled by his hands.

Axilus swallowed and fanned his face with his mandibles. Iron-based blood wasn’t a good smell, he’d decided what felt like a lifetime ago on the _Anchrivos_ , and being surrounded by red-bloods for a couple years hadn’t changed his mind one bit. Copper-based blue blood, like his own, had a somewhat tangy, acrid but not altogether unbearable smell; iron blood was just sharp and horrid. The flow must have been unpleasantly heavy, because the air was quickly getting choked with the smell.

The quarians in the room didn’t seem to notice the scent. Lucky them.

Xala hovered at Gerrel’s side as he prodded at his face. “Keelah, I think you broke my nose!” Gerrel hissed now, and his voice certainly did sound… off, like the air leaving his nose was distorted.

“Hey, technically, _you_ broke it.” Ashalla sniffed, sticking her hands in her armpits and giving him a dirty look.

They were interrupted by a sharp _crack!_ Axilus’s neck was starting to get tired from how much he was spinning around lately, this time to see Savval calmly taking a rag to her robotic arm while Nahza reeled back in pain, hands over the lower half of his face. “Look,” Savval sneered, “you match.”

Nahza pulled his hands away to stare at the deep red shining against the black of his endosuit. Axilus was all but suffocating on the iron smell at this point; Nahza’s nose was bleeding profusely, and a shiny patch on his lip said that was well and busted, too. “The fuck was _that_ for!?” Nahza bellowed, his eyes going wide in a way that had Axilus tensing his talons.

Something about Savval’s expression wasn’t right. It was cold and almost cruel, out of place on her usually relaxed and friendly face. “Funsies.”

One of Nahza’s eyes twitched at that, and Axilus’s gizzard clenched. Not good.

Across the room, Xala straightened up a little and started to call something to the two of them, but before much of anything could leave his mouth, Nahza let out nothing short of a roar, a word that wasn’t Khelish, wasn’t Basic, but sent Axilus’s heart scurrying for the nearest exit. Noun, Turian Imperial: “the worst thing you can ever call another person,” according to every extranet site he’d ever read.

He started to get to his feet, started to say something, but before he could do anything at all, Nahza jumped Savval, knocking her out of her seat and sending both of them skidding a short distance across the floor. Savval quickly raised her arm to defend herself, getting out a short, “Hey-” that was quickly cut off by a panicked shriek as Nahza seized the forearm and, faster than Axilus could really follow, flipped a switch, twisted, and _yanked_.

Savval’s prosthetic came off with a _click_ and a _k-chunk_ , and Nahza hurled it across the room. It hit the floor with a clattering clang, but Axilus barely heard that over the shouting. Nahza was nearly hysterical, his language coming out so cluttered and slurred and heavily accented Axilus couldn’t quite pick out what he was saying. A few phrases made it through: as near as he could tell, Nahza was, quite simply, done being the butt of the joke. “No right” and “always pickin’ on me” were frequent, as was “so damn funny” and, to Axilus’s gizzard’s distress, “ _laugh_ , dammit, I dare ya.”

His spinal plates tingled, and the sensation spread down through his cowl as something pulsed, and Nahza and Savval were enveloped in blue light, frozen for the briefest of moments before Thie let out a pained noise and the stasis quit. Nahza went right back at it, but Axilus was more concerned with turning to check on Thie, subvocals trembling high enough it might just be properly audible to the quarians in the room. “Thie?”

Thie slumped down in his seat, head in his hands. “I’m fine,” he said, voice shaking at roughly the same tempo at his knees. “Just-” He broke into more coughing, then continued, “Just go help Savval.”

Axilus whined, but was interrupted from what he wanted to say by a sickening _crunch_. Spinning around yet again, he felt the familiar crackle of his biotics surging down his plates as his olfactory nerves were flooded with enough iron-smell to make him cough and sputter. There was more blood on the floor now, and Savval was screaming, screaming, _screaming_.

He’d read in a book once “screamed to split the rocks.” He hadn’t quite realized just what the author meant until now.

He could really use the quarians’ audio input turn-off right about now, part of his mind moped as he paced cautiously towards the battling friends. The officers were circling, looking wide-eyed between each other and the fight. Axilus fidgeted, mandibles fluttering quickly enough the muscles ached; there was no opening, no way for him to butt in and rip them apart. Savval was trying to curl over on herself, one finger bent at an angle fingers were definitely not supposed to be bent at, but Nahza’s knees held her down. All she had left was the stump of her arm and the base for the prosthetic. While the exposed cords and spokes might have been useful, all she could really do was wave it around hoping to connect.

And then she did.

Nahza’s belligerence was abruptly cut off with a _“hrk!”_ as Savval’s stump connected with his throat, sending him reeling back and into a wet, desperate coughing fit. His eyes looked like they were trying to pop out of his skull, and a shallow, vertical cut on his windpipe was starting to ooze blood.

Shaking himself out of his weird trance, Axilus took a step forward and seized Nahza by the shoulders, pulling him back and off of Savval. It was harder than he’d expected; Nahza was mostly dense muscle, and had an awful lot of force in his sturdy frame. Part of him felt bad for taking advantage of Nahza’s fit, but the rest of him quickly scolded that part, reminding himself that if he didn’t, he’d just go back to beating the shit out of Savval.

He hauled the choking Nahza back a few steps, pressing him against his cowl and anchoring an arm around his waist. “Hey, man, hey, easy,” he said, gizzard twinging with guilt as Nahza struggled to breathe. The biotics sparking along his body couldn’t have been helping.

There was motion out of the corner of his eye. “Here,” Zaemin started to say with an outstretched arm, “let me- _ah!”_

As Axilus turned his head, a blue-white arc of biotic static leapt from his shoulder plating to Zaemin’s hand, and Zaemin jolted back. Now knocked off-balance, he stumbled backwards a couple steps before sitting down hard on the floor. A faint biotic glow enveloped him, and Axilus could only stare as it sputtered.

Gerrel made a surprised noise. “What the _fuck?”_ The sound came out uncomfortably wet and… _gooey_ , somehow, since there was still a fair amount of blood running down his face. Like a really gross burble.

Zaemin grunted and waved it off. “Latent biotics, I’ll explain later,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just help Savval!”

“Latent _what!?”_ Axilus thought he heard a faint _pop_ , like a bubble of blood bursting. Ew. Would it be out of line for him to tell Gerrel to just go clean his face off?

“I said _later_ , Han!”

Before Gerrel could continue anyway, Hazir moved in and pulled Savval to her feet, drawing her back a short ways while little Tavvi scurried over to retrieve her prosthetic. Meanwhile, Nahza’s fit seemed to be subsiding, and now he was drawing in breaths that made his frame shake in Axilus’s grip.

Xala made a futile attempt to wipe the blood off Gerrel’s face, then sighed and sent him off to patch himself up before turning to the lot of them. “Jorren,” he said, voice icy and stance rigid and suddenly Axilus was very much sure he’d rather have the admiral back, _“what in the ancestors’ name?”_

Nahza made a noise, and Axilus warily tightened his grip. He didn’t respond to Xala, still glaring daggers at Savval. “Y’ain’t got no right,” he wheezed at her. His pulse quickened under Axilus’s hands. “Y’all jist- it’s so-”

“Deep breaths, Jorren,” Xala said, stone-faced. “Tell us what’s wrong.”

Nahza gulped down more air, then spat out, “My mama might be _dead_ , an’ I ain’t known fer _weeks!”_

Savval went white as a sheet, and his words hung heavy in the air for a long moment before Hazir cleared his throat. “I propose we discuss this later,” he hedged. “Both of you are a mess. Medbay, _now_.”

With some reluctance, Axilus allowed Hazir to pry Nahza out of his grip so he could usher both him and Savval out of the commons. Savval wasn’t bothering to put her arm back on yet, instead clutching it to her chest like an infant, and Nahza’s breath was still ragged and heavy.

 _Spirits_.

He jumped at a light touch on his arm and spun around. Thie had gotten to his feet and wandered over, and was now looking at him with his eyes narrowed slightly. “Axilus,” he said slowly, “what did Nahza call Savval?”

His skull ached at the base, a painful patch roughly the size and shape of his father’s hand. “When I was a kid,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “I heard it from a friend, who heard from a friend, who heard from _their_ friend, who heard from a cousin, and so on and so forth. Kid gossip, y’know? And I went home, and I walked up to my parents, and I asked them what it meant.” He took a deep breath. “My dad hit me so hard upside the back of my head I saw stars, and my mom told me that if she ever heard it come out of my mouth again, she’d peel my plates off one by one. And then, once I was crying and promising to never say it again, they sat me down and explained what it meant.”

All eyes in the room were watching him now. “And?” Xala prompted.

He fluttered his mandibles. “It’s from the Reunification War. The separatists made it up. It’s kind of a dumb word, it doesn’t really have any meaning outside the insult. But it means you’re not a person. Strips you of everything you are, everything it means to be turian.”

He fidgeted a bit, suddenly very uncomfortable with the eyes on him, and lamely finished, “And, yeah.”

Everyone was staring at him for a while longer, until he was saved by Gerrel reappearing, face now clean of blood and nose boasting the faint sheen of still-drying medi-gel. “Alright, I miss anything, no, _good_.”

The note of finality in his voice said that he knew full well he had to have missed something, but he wasn’t going to hear it until later. Instead, he reclaimed his previous seat, folded his arms, and scowled at Zaemin. “Now, whaddya _mean_ you’re a latent biotic?”

And just like that, the tension fled from the room. Gerrel to the rescue, apparently. Zaemin started into a vaguely crabby-sounding explanation of how he was born on Illium and _swore_ the asari had seeded the planet with eezo, and Axilus turned, put an arm around Thie’s shoulders, and wandered back to their previous seat, forcing himself to ignore the errant shake that wracked Thie’s chest. Science-type stuff like that all went over his head. He’d tuned out once Zaemin had finished the first paragraph of his explanation.

While Zaemin was explaining the ins and outs of latency, Axilus let his head fall into his cowl and his eyes flutter shut. Unintentional discharge had sapped a fair amount of energy, and sleep sounded like a pretty good idea. He’d just close his eyes for a little while.

Before he could properly nap, however, a beeping came from off to one side, and he cracked open an eye to watch as Thie answered his omni-tool. “Who is it?”

Thie scanned the message, then sat upright. “It’s Val,” he said, a lot more alert than he’d sounded earlier. “The hearing’s starting in a couple minutes. Quick, turn on CPAO!”

Axilus reached for the remote, but Reegar had already grabbed it and was punching in the code for the Citadel Public Affairs Organization channel, which broadcast all Council and Council committee proceedings it legally could in the interest of government transparency.

The vidscreen on the wall went black for a second, then produced an image of the big hearing chamber beneath the Citadel Tower. People were already mostly filled in- the first several rows were crammed with reporters and their camera drones, with the general public behind them. On the dais, closest to the reporters was a table with humans and batarians sitting at it, one species per side, with datapads and terminals scattered in front of each representative. Beyond that was a shorter table, with three salarians. Axilus recognized Councilor Rawan from the vids, and a dim memory of Thie’s gaming adventures informed him the thin-horned, gray salarian sitting on the same side as the humans was Ambassador Valern. Across from Valern, on the batarian side, was a tan salarian in beige robes he didn’t recognize. Beyond them, a final table facing the audience was empty, but the way it rose above the others made it clear who would be sitting in the chairs behind it.

The Spectres standing at parade rest in dress armor were a pretty good clue, too.

Axilus squinted, trying to see if he could recognize the Spectres on guard. “There’s Virelia Albidros,” he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else, “and Saren next to her. Tela Vasir. Athiltas Ruol. Sezani T’Kirev. Ferik Rels…”

“Shh,” Thie told him absent-mindedly, nudging him with an elbow, “here comes the Council.”

Sure enough, the crowd on-screen had gone deathly quiet, and a voice Axilus couldn’t locate was speaking. “All rise for Her Excellency Councilor Tevos D’Mirosi of the Asari Republics, and His Excellency Councilor Ierian Sparatus of the Turian Empire.”

The crowd got to their feet as the two councilors walked in, flanked by a small squadron of various species. Axilus’s heart tried to climb into his mouth as he recognized his father, in unfamiliar armor he guessed had to be A-Spec dress armor. He clamped his jaw shut around an exclamation, but a little noise got out anyway. Some of the quarians gave him a look, and he made a motion that he’d explain later.

The councilors took their seats, and the voice went on to introduce the salarians, full name and all. The quarians started to drift over, taking seats while transfixed by the events on the vidscreen. The salarian Axilus hadn’t recognized was Ambassador Esheel; there were a lot of humans and batarians present, but the only names that stuck were Udina and Jacas. The voice laid out the basic structure of the hearing: the humans and batarians would both pose their sides of the argument to their respective orator, Valern for the humans and Esheel for the batarians. The orators would then make the complete argument to the mediator, Councilor Rawan, who in turn would pose the situation to the other councilors.

It seemed unnecessarily complicated to Axilus, but then, he supposed that was why he wasn’t a politician.

Before they could get to any actual arguing, Rawan had each party provide a statement as to their stance on the issue. The batarians, as the instigators, got to go first, but Axilus wasn’t paying attention. Too much political jargon for him. “Thie,” he whispered, nudging him with an elbow, “do you see my dad in the guard? Do you _see_ , Thie?”

Thie squinted slightly, then nodded. “ _Yes_ , Axilus. Hush.”

He bit back a whine and shook his head. Whatever. He sort of pitied Esheel- she kept trying to talk, but Jacas would shake his head and lean in to correct her, and then she’d scowl and have to backtrack and try again. Was it really that difficult of a point to get across, whatever it was?

His attention roamed again, and he watched the councilors watching Esheel. Tevos sat prim and proper in her seat, back straight and hands under the table, head turned so she could look at Esheel and Jacas straight-on. Rawan was hunched over her table, scribbling notes to herself, not looking at Esheel but clearly paying attention. Sparatus was ever the attentive lawyer, leaning forward with his arms crossed and supporting him on the table, mandibles and brow plates lowered in body language that read as the mark of someone listening as carefully as they could.

An old civics class echoed in his mind, reminding him that councilors were typically lawyers of the “best of the best of the best” caliber so that they could best balance species interests with galactic ones. A faint shudder ran through him- this was _court_ , on the highest difficulty setting there was.

 _Finally_ , Esheel delivered the argument to Jacas’s satisfaction, and she sat down, getting a distinctly sympathetic look from Rawan as she did. Almost immediately, there was a small ruckus in the commons, with more than a couple quarian voices asking Gerrel, as the resident political figure, what that _meant_. “Hey, hey, what do you think I am, an encyclopedia?” the admiral snapped, waving them off. “All he said is, the humans are arrogant and being given preferential treatment, and the attack was a premid- premedititty- _ugh_ …”

He frowned, and Axilus could see the gears turning in his head for a moment before Xala supplied, “The Hegemony believes the human attack on their embassy was a deliberate and premeditated attempt to push them off the Citadel to get more attention from the Council.”

“Yeah, that.” Gerrel folded his arms and leaned back in his seat. “Keelah, you all have omni-tools, get a dictionary app or something…”

“Shh,” Ashalla said. “Humans’ turn.”

Sure enough, Valern had finished conferring with Udina and was rising to his feet. Their statement was mercifully short: all they had to say was that batarian aggression was unfair and blinded by xenophobia, and the Alliance had no prior knowledge of the attack but were prepared to make full reparations to the families as the Council saw fit.

“They’re certainly handling this well,” Xala mused as the councilors moved to discuss. “Remember the last human ambassador?”

Gerrel snorted, and Tavvi tilted her head. Before she could even ask, though, Thie coughed and told her, “Udina’s predecessor was… kind of evil. Pushy and aggressive, I heard.”

“I have recordings of some of her public speeches,” Ashalla mused. “I’ll show you later. But yeah, not very good in terms of being the first-ever representative of your species to aliens you want to like you.”

The councilors were still debating. Axilus’s cowl quivered, and he squinted at Sparatus on the screen for a moment before whining to himself. When a couple of the quarians overheard and glanced over at him, he fluttered his mandibles. “Sparatus is mad about something,” he explained, feeling his skin prickle. “The camera’s audio is picking up his subvocals. And look at his hands. See how he’s not wearing gloves?” When they turned to look, he explained, “That’s an intimidation thing. If we show our talons, we mean we’re not afraid to get violent if we’re pushed. If the situation’s bad enough, it could even mean we won’t even hesitate.”

Gerrel made a _hrmm_ he couldn’t interpret. “Zaemin,” he whispered, “see how many admirals you can get ahold of and tell them to turn this on.”

Zaemin made an affirmative-type noise as Sparatus finally got to his feet, mandibles flaring in a way that made Axilus pity Tevos. “It is the opinion of this Council,” he began, “that, while Alliance expansion into the region of space officially recognized as the Naborrean Abyss was unlawful, and the Hegemony’s response _equally_ unlawful, the recent attacks on their respective embassies are not only uncalled for, but out of line, immoral, and an assault on everything the Council and its policies stand for.”

“He used the batarian term for the Abyss,” Ashalla muttered. “Ten credits that’ll be significant.”

“Shh,” came the collective response.

Sparatus allowed a moment for his words to sink in, then continued, “It is therefore the intent of this hearing not to point fingers and declare one party ultimately responsible for everything, but to assign blame where it is due, determine appropriate retribution and compensation for both sides, and reach a compromise that satisfies all.”

As he sat back down, Axilus scrunched his nasal plates. “Tollak’s gonna talk like _that_ someday?” he complained. “He’s already so… so… _Ashalla-y!”_

“Hey,” Ashalla said, in a tone that was only vaguely offended. “I’ve talked to your brother, he’s more like _Raalun_.”

“Seconded,” Gerrel grumbled. “Now would you all _shut up?”_

Axilus whined, but settled, looping an arm around Thie to hold him against his side. The ambassadors were discussing again, the humans and batarians whispering amongst themselves whilst Valern and Esheel leaned across their table to talk in shrill hypersonics just out of hearing range for Axilus, low enough to set his cowl trembling but high enough that all he could feel was a vague sense of sound.

It must have been annoying in the quarian hearing range, too, because Thie’s eyes screwed up behind his mask, and he started hitting the side of his helmet. “Damn audio input’s on the fritz again,” he grumbled.

“Shh,” Zaemin said, staring intently at the vidscreen. “I’m listening.”

Thie and Axilus exchanged a look. “To what?” Thie asked.

Zaemin gestured to the salarians. “They’re… I dunno, _warning_ each other. Discussing the case and all. Esheel doesn’t seem super impressed with Jacas, but she’s dishing out a lot of dirt for Valern.”

Xala _hrmm_ ed. “So they’re cooperating despite their current position opposite each other in the interest of peace.”

“Sounds like it, yeah.”

The room went quiet again, letting Zaemin listen. Before too long, Udina and Jacas were talking to the salarians again, and the argument began. This was more fast-paced than the opening statements had been, but with all the legal jargon getting tossed around, Axilus was still lost. He actually found himself wishing Tollak were around to translate for him.

Instead, he had to make do with Xala and Ashalla. The gist of the quarreling, as near as he could figure, was over whether or not human retribution for batarian antics in the Abyss was warranted. Udina seemed to be holding firm that while the Hegemony needed to answer for what was going on, the Alliance would go through the proper channels for it, rather than just lashing out, and the attack on the batarian embassy wasn’t their fault. Jacas, however, appeared intent on picking apart every last human operation in the area, trying to paint the Alliance as liars.

Maybe half an hour into the debate, Nahza, Savval, and Hazir returned, Savval supporting Nahza while Hazir appeared to be trying to squirm out of his skin. Quietly grateful for the distraction from big words that hurt his brain, Axilus peered at Hazir, watching as he made a beeline for Ashalla. His suit looked wet, and his hands were spasming like he wanted to touch something but couldn’t make himself do it.

Hazir’s hands hovered over Ashalla’s shoulders for a few moments, still squirming, then withdrew back to Hazir’s chest. “Call requisitions,” he choked, “I need a new suit.”

Ashalla blinked at him. _“Why?”_

_“He vomited on me!”_

Ashalla flinched, and Nahza gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry, sir,” he said, “I _tried_ to miss…”

Hazir shuddered, and Gerrel groaned. “Hey, mate, c’mere,” he called, motioning Hazir over. “Ashalla, get on a new suit for him, would you?”

Ashalla made a brief noise of protest but obliged, going back to her terminal while Hazir went over to Gerrel. Meanwhile, Savval and Nahza wandered over. “We’re good again,” Savval said with an embarrassed grin. “All apologized and made up and stuff.”

“Shook on it an’ everythin’,” Nahza added, collapsing into a chair. Of course, no sooner had he hit the chair than he winced and cursed. “Still hurts worse’n Arutvor smells, though.”

“Tavvi, ask, and you get exo duty for a month,” Gerrel grouched, now helping Hazir pull his helmet off while giving Tavvi, who had only just opened her mouth, the stink eye. “Just breathe, man, it’s alright,” he added to his second mate.

Nahza soldiered on anyway. “He smells like-”

And then Gerrel chucked Hazir’s helmet at him, so instead of finishing his thought, he yelped and fell out of his seat, then rolled around making dying noises.

Reegar gave him a sympathetic look and offered a hand to help him up. “That bad?”

Without a word, Nahza undid a few of the seals on his torso and peeled down part of his suit, revealing an ugly bruise stretching from his groin to his ribs in a jagged line. There were quite a few winces and shocked hisses of breath from around the crowd, and Savval muttered, “Sorry again…”

Nahza attempted a grin, but it didn’t last, quickly replaced by a sickened look and a groan. “Ughh, I think I’m gonna be sick again…” He reached over to where Hazir’s helmet had rolled and added, “Hazir, you gon’ be usin’ this any time soon?”

Gerrel let out a sharp, startled bark, and Hazir disappeared again with an echoing wail.

Ashalla groaned. “Great, I needed his measurements for the req order.”

“Just send a message to his boyfriend, he’s a doctor,” Gerrel told her, snatching the helmet away from Nahza. “Go find an incinerator like the rest of us, Nahza.”

Nahza actually managed the grin this time. “Sorry, Cap.”

“Yeah, right,” Gerrel grumbled. “Go puke, you weirdo.”

Before Nahza could run off again, however, there came a shout from the vidscreen, with a piercing, ringing quality to it that made Axilus’s cowl ache badly enough he clapped his hands onto it in a vain attempt to make it stop. Through the sharp vibrating, he heard, “I’m not saying _that!”_

The room went still, refocused on the vidscreen. Esheel was half out of her seat, eyes pulled wider than Axilus thought salarian eyes could go, and looked to be trying to compose herself. Valern and Rawan were leaning over the table, and Valern asked something in a closed dialect, not even bothering to hide with hypersonics.

Esheel almost shrieked her response, in the same dialect, and Zaemin immediately gasped, hands flying to cover his mouth. “Keelah se’lai!”

“What? What is it? What’d she say?” Gerrel asked.

Zaemin didn’t get a chance to respond. Jacas jumped out of his seat and slammed his hands on the table, barking things Axilus only half understood, snapshots of a frothing fury. “An insult to the memory of Admiral Naborra,” was one. “The Alliance will pay for this,” came another. Around the edge of the shot, Spectres and honor guards alike were tensing, lowering into battle-ready stances. Hands reached for weapons, biotics flickered to life, and all eyes were on the councilors, waiting for the signal.

Esheel wasted no time, getting up and leaping over the table to land neatly between Valern and Rawan. Jacas turned on her then, snarling, but before he could speak, there was a crackle and a pop, and none other than Saren himself was standing in front of Jacas, mandibles out and biotics a simmering storm off his armor. “Stand down,” he barked, voice sharp, and Axilus’s cowl hummed with the force of the subvocals rolling through the camera’s audio. _Or it’ll be the last mistake you ever make_.

There was a similar series of biotics-induced sounds, and various Spectres made their presence known. Tela Vasir appeared atop the Council’s table, hands thrust upward to project a barrier over herself and her superiors. T’Kirev, another asari, pulled Rawan and the salarian ambassadors back into another bubble, and there was a high-pitched hum as two salarian Spectres from opposite sides of the stage set up shields with their omni-tools to defend the human and batarian ambassadors.

Jacas spat something in Saren’s face, and the feed cut out abruptly, the chaos of what used to be the hearing unexpectedly replaced with a noisy commercial for the latest in asari fashion springwear. There was a brief scramble, then Savval jammed the remote at the vidscreen, turning it off.

The room fell deathly silent for a moment, then Zaemin sat down, _hard._ Within seconds, he was being all but mobbed.

“What did Esheel say?” Tavvi pressed.

“Did you catch what Jacas said?” Gerrel demanded.

“Saar, _what’s going on?”_ Xala asked.

_“Shut up!”_

Axilus jumped. The holler had come not from Zaemin, but Ashalla, who was now on her feet, omni-tool active, with lips pressed into a thin line. “You can all interrogate Zaemin later. Captain, Tuzh, Raalun, and Rael are here to speak with you.”


End file.
